


Keep Your Teeth

by GashouseGables



Category: Life and Death - Stephenie Meyer, Twilight Series - All Media Types, Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: Alice is a control freak so if you didn't like her before you won't like her now, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Mob, Asian Alice Cullen, Butch/Femme, Edward is a dramatic bitch so likewise, F/F, F/M, I called her Jasmine and not Jessamine and I mildly regret it, M/M, Mild Racism, Mild Xenophobia, Rape/Non-con Elements, Trans Female Character, Trans Rosalie Hale, VERY LIGHT NON CON like it's just mentioned, they're masons now
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-13 19:26:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 31,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28783401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GashouseGables/pseuds/GashouseGables
Summary: Mason Pty Ltd is a completely above board and legitimate family-run business. Edward and Alice Mason are currently the co-managers of one of the company’s nightclubs, Sixth Sense.Edward just so happens to buy Jake’s substantial medical debt, and Jazz is a stray that Alice has so kindly taken in. Certainly not a really gay Mob!AU in any way, shape, or form.HIATUS
Relationships: Alice Cullen/Jessamine Hale, Carlisle Cullen/Esme Cullen, Emmett Cullen/Rosalie Hale, Jacob Black/Edward Cullen
Comments: 6
Kudos: 16





	1. Chapter Satu

**Author's Note:**

> I've been pecking away at this for four years and now I'm sick of it. It's vaguely inspired by RocknRolla 2008 - great movie.

Alice was not happy that she was asked to go clubbing in the lair of the enemy. But where Edward went, she was sure to follow. And there were less profile places to debut her new Stella McCartney, so Alice supposed she was also going for herself.

Oh, and who was she kidding? She loved Ferdinand’s clubs –her favourite being their current destination, _Hasa Nina_ – even if the head of the organisation was constantly clashing with Mason Pty Ltd, but that was the brass’ problem.

Hasa wasn’t outwardly exclusive, but the formidable layout, chic design and the people that frequented the places told you if you were out of place or not. Much subtler than Lot 61, in her opinion. Or _less_ subtle – since the place was filled with sharp suits and shiny guns.

Edward Mason, heir apparent of Mason, tapped around on his phone as they were driven, looking severely displeased.

“Not looking very fly, bi guy,” she told him, reapplying her lippy for the second time. The car went over a pothole just as she pulled the lipstick away from her face and she clicked her tongue at the near-miss.

“Emmett! Easy!”

A short booming laugh came from the front seat. “Told you to warn me yourself!” the large man stuffed behind the wheel shot back.

Edward curled his lip and shook his head. “We’re meeting Maria,” he replied, his tone clipped.

Now it was Alice’s turn to frown. Maria Ramirez was the darling only child of Ferdinand and oversaw nearly all their clubs on the west side of the city for the past two years. Alice herself had only been managing _Sixth Sense’s_ décor for eight months! It was her idea to add a third story for business, and it had been booming. But with Edward running it, she knew they’d soon prove to their father how capable they were and then their reach could extend.

She already had plans for one of the Mason hostels – a whole new basement, fitting with secret lead-lined side panels for easy storage if a raid were to happen. If you told her as a 12-year-old foster that she’d soon be adopted into one of the most influential families on this side of the coast’s underbelly, she probably would have believed you. Alice always knew she was destined for power and money, and she never was given the easy way to earn it.

So, she made it the hard way – able to glean the tide of the stock markets like she had a presentiment, learning the ropes from Anthony Mason himself. She had a head for business, something her foster father had only encouraged and now she hadn’t seen her bank account dip below six figures for three years. Not bad for twenty-two.

“She wants to talk shop and gloat over how many of her father’s clubs she’s running into the ground,” Edward added wryly. Alice giggled – sure, Maria was on top of her game _now_ , but Alice knew long-term she was not gonna make it.

With that thought she was hardly going to waste her time with her now – Maria had barely acknowledged Alice, and they all knew the woman only saw Edward as the legitimate heir and business rival. It meant Alice was snubbed and safe in equal measure. But all she was banking on was a free drink card and a good night dancing. Really, her largest concern was how Edward was wrinkling his Armani jacket crossing his arms the way he was.

They pulled up to the club and went through the VIP section – Maria wasn’t into the droll idea of power play and didn’t let them wait, the bouncer ushered them in and handed Alice her night of free drinking.

Alice made it to the bar easily, Edward behind her and ordered them two whiskys, stronger than her usual sugary pomegranate concoctions. It wasn’t from her wallet, after all. She downed hers easily when they arrive, but under Edward’s strict glare she coughed delicately. Her big brother was a little over-protective and kept closer tabs on her than their own father. He didn’t like how easily she was handling her alcohol.

“Oh,” she said mildly, “burns.” With wide-eyes and a pout, she knows he’ll let her off the hook. Instead, his gaze snapped over to the other side of the bar and he sneered. Alice followed his look, but she couldn’t see anyone that interesting. Edward was a bit of an eccentric elitist, though, so she doubted there’s actually anything important his disgust was directed at.

Instead, he drops a firm kiss on her forehead, murmuring “Don’t take anyone home” before he stepped away, now looking upwards.

She spotted the dark beauty waiting at the entrance to the top level of the club, and Alice only spared Edward a kiss on the cheek and Maria a polite nod before ordering a refill as Edward left. She never talked with competitors, their father thought it was beneath her – Alice liked designing and money and he wasn’t one to distract her from her pursuits.

All that sly handling was on Edward. He was hardly a people-person – but he had the nose of a bloodhound, or a tabloid journalist. He was great at digging up a bare spec of dirt and knew exactly how to find people’s weakest defences.

She knew someone qA looking very intently at her and she also knew she might just disregard Edward’s last comment to her. She spotted her across the bar, and Alice has an idea she might have been the one Edward was glaring at.

She was handsome, in an overtly sensual way. No curvvy figure, but the kind of scrappy lithe build that comes from street fighting and a childhood of poverty. Foster homes had taught Alice that much. Her eyes were sky blue, that kind of blue that inspired crusty old men to write poetry on the innocence of white women. Her face isn’t the same angular, sex-kitten look Alice's bestie Rosalie had either, but she didn’t have the glowing, moon-face beauty their father’s secretary, Esme, did. Her nose had been broken just a little crooked and her mouth looked like it ate a lot of pussy.

Alice brought her drink to her lips coyly. “You probably don’t get off unless she drags her nails down your back,” she muttered into the glass. Downing it, she pushes away from the bar and goes off to dance.

She made a friend easily; a small black woman with big bouncy blue curls, and they dance a little together, finding a rhythm that complimented both each other and the music.

“Come get some drinks off boys with me,” her new friend, Charlotte, whispered in her ear. Alice giggled, tucking the free drink card into her bra and nodding. Charlotte led them back to the bar, and Alice stopped at the good-looking woman from before. Charlotte caught her eye and winked.

Alice feeled almost annoyed – obviously, Charlotte had been sent to fetch her, but she was a little too flattered to be very sullen about it. Charlotte walked right up to the sleek, tall woman and slid her ass across the woman’s thighs, settling on the man next to her, and gave Alice an encouraging nod to do the same.

Shrugging to herself, Alice pressed up against her, and smiles. She doesn’t smile back but tapped the counter twice and has a drink pushed into her hand. Alice pursed her lips, but kept the corners of her mouth lifted – she knew that signal. It was how Ferdinand’s cronies got served in his clubs. Which meant she was one of Maria’s goons. For the life of her Alice couldn’t place her face, but her gut told her she wasn’t new.

Alice saw her hand tighten on the glass to lift it but slid her pink-polished fingers around the woman’s thick wrist before she could bring it to her own lips. Alice plucked the drink from her hand and downed it herself, not letting go of her wrist and ignoring the other hand coming up to rest on the counter on the other side of her, trapping her in. She felt like sitting with a cutie, though, so she only bounces a little on her thigh, which forced her legs apart, so Alice could check her out.

Thankfully, she seems properly equipped – a pack-and-play if the impossibly-hard bulge she was sitting on told her anything. It seemed to be the size Alice preferred, and her dress-maker sense could measure it out pretty well, though the woman’s skinny jeans helped. Lightly, she wondered just how straight girls did it – not being able to pick out exactly what size she wanted. Alice was _much_ too precious to put up with that.

“You wanna come to mine?” Alice asked up at her, but the woman shook her head. It made Alice extremely miffed – she just denied what would have been a serious honour. “What, Maria tells you who to fuck?” she snapped, slightly annoyed. Alice _was_ sort of short, but like, _definitely_ cute enough for some gang-banger. Cute enough for anyone, really, she didn’t overestimate people’s worth.

The woman laughed a little at Alice’s words, and shrugged with one shoulder, “Only if it’s her. But I’m working right now. See, Maria has a guest and I’m supposed to keep his little sister out of trouble,” she explained with a wink. Alice is slightly taken aback by the accent. How did some Southern good old girl make it so far up North? Alice felt a tingle in her chest. She always _did_ have a weakness for them – she was from Biloxi, once upon a time.

She didn’t actually care though, she was much too preoccupied by the idea of being babysat.

Alice flicked her slightly in the face by feigning arranging her almost non-existent fringe. The woman flinched slightly at being scratched under the eye, but otherwise doesn’t move. “Fine, I’ll ask her myself,” Alice said curtly. Only three-to-four people were allowed to tell her what to do, and even than she rarely listened.

Alice hopped off her lap and headed to the second floor, her grip still on the woman’s wrist. She slunk after her, in that casual manner that implies she’d be into Alice biting her a little.

Suddenly the woman stopped and pulled her back a little. Alice goes with her but isn’t happy. If she had to ask permission from her little keeper, she could at least pick up the pace!

But she frowned and looked over to the front entrance. Following her gaze, Alice spotted two large men moving through the crowd. Carefully plain shirts, leather jackets, bluejeans. Alice couldn’t see their big black boots – but she knew they were wearing them. Cops never had good timing, nor was the ‘undercover’ outfit very subtle.

Alice was then pulled up, into the woman’s chest and her shoulder jammed against qhat Alice assumed for a second was a pullet-proof vest, until she realized it was the woman’s chest binder. Alice gasped as she immediately started sucking on her neck. It’s nice enough, but short-lived, as the woman backed off and headed upstairs without her.

Not keen on being questioned in the dinky police station that _always_ smelt like pee, Alice skipped out and walked down a few blocks for Emmett to pick her up. She knew Edward will get here soon, hopefully with a little information on her new target.

Edward did not like talking on behalf of his father. But he was the only one Daddy Dearest trusted to do it, so here he was, sipping scotch older than his grandfather and smiling into the jaws of a panther. Or whatever large predator ate the heads of its victims first, so to speak.

Praying Mantis – or maybe a cougar? Too easy.

But what Maria was offering as an apology for the recent turf scuffle over drug territory was interesting. After he’d found some of her dealers in Sky land, Edward had not been kind. It was too easy to tip off a few authorities to some of her more personal dealings, and when she’d realised he wasn’t someone she wanted angry at her, he’d almost been too glad to meet her for a little chat.

Conflict took up so much time. But her peace offering was a bit of a low-ball.

“You want to buy me a whore?”

He would have snorted if he were the type to do so. If he wanted someone to play with, there were plenty closer to home. Freelancers, of course. He didn’t get off on the abused homeless or junkies or the like. They were more likely to owe him money he’d rather get instead.

Maria laughs lightly, her perfectly curled brown hair sliding over her bare shoulders. “Not at all, just a boy with a little debt to me,” she explained airily. Though Edward thought it was illogical to try to be casual while wearing a genuine mink coat. “You can have it all.”

“Why would I want his debt?” Edward asked, still unimpressed. Pressing poor people for money they didn’t have was just bullying, really. And usually he _loved_ bullying, but only dirty cops and corrupt politicians. Mostly because he liked getting payed.

“You’ll want him,” Maria assured him and led him towards the giant glass wall of a window. Because _of course_ she looked down on her peons through a giant window. “Down there.”

The boy’s gorgeous. Rounded shoulders, legs for days, meeting a beautiful swell of an ass that even his shitty Walmart jeans couldn’t hide. Beyond beautiful and in an effortlessly cheerful kind of way that Edward always enjoyed. He liked happy, slutty brats he could spoil – not the meek or bitchy kind, the kind that laughed easily and were also sexy as hell. The boy seemed to fit perfectly.

“… Done a little research on me, have you?” he asked, feigning lightness – he was actually very perturbed and would be looking into this later. Maria only smiled. The door opened, and a filthy young woman walked in, though she might be older than Edward a bit. She looked like she might frequently live in a trashcan and Edward frowned in distaste. It was the woman he saw looking at his little sister in that transfixed, yet intent way that he knew would lead to trouble from one of them.

Disgusting. Edward knew she was working for Maria. It was more than likely Maria scraped her off her red bottom’s and didn’t wash her hands straight away.

The woman walked to Maria and leaned down, whispering in her ear, before glancing at Edward and grinning. It was not a nice expression by any means, but Edward watched as she went and began to search for something out the window. Edward saw the moment the woman spotted his sister and fights off an eye roll. Oh, the trouble was going to be coming from the tiny princess this time. Though that was par for the course. Stealing one of Maria’s men from under her nose would require a bit of skill and a lot of Alice’s usual determination.

“Do we have a compromise?” Maria purred. Edward felt his phone buzz, but he didn’t need to check it. Alice was no doubt alerting him to the police presence slowly agitating Maria’s patrons and slinking their way up here. He didn’t need to be trapped in her shit.

“… Of course.”

Edward accepted the pen and signed for the man’s debt. Interestingly, it seemed that his bills were all medical; some paraplegic man under his name. Shame, if this great nation gave him the freedom of healthcare he’d be in little to no illegal debt at all. “Now if you’ll excuse yourself, you have some of the city’s finest to speak with,” he pointed out, grinning as he sweeps himself to his feet.

The presence of the police doesn’t surprise her. She only plastered on a smile and gave him a finger-wiggle as he made his leave.

Before he walked, he handed his card to the woman his sister would no doubt be researching on right now.

The woman looked at Edward with disinterest and his card even more so. Edward felt a flash of irritation – the woman was taller than him by a precious inch. “I don’t do dudes.”

Edward was deeply offended that he was spoken to in such a manner by a woman in such dire need of Frebeeze-ing. But smirks anyway, mostly because he could tell it was at least a little bit of a lie, even if Edward wasn’t her type – and vice-versa.

“You’ll want to read the back,” Edward told her. It was a dual print card; Alice thought it was cute if their information was all accessible in one. That made the woman grin though, and she grabbed at the thin white paper eagerly. It gave Edward a little vicious stab of pleasure; he’d be very glad to see this woman broken and desperate to be wrapped around his sister’s little finger. After she’d taken a bath, or several, of course.

Maybe some de-lousing too.


	2. Chapter Dua

It wasn’t often Alice and Edward were called into a meeting with their father. But when they were, Esme Platt, his secretary, was usually around.

Alice gave her a warm hug and a kiss on the cheek and Edward did the same. Their mother was just as ruthless as their father was – before she’d been murdered – but his secretary was always kind and gentle. She was like a favoured aunt who was better with children.

“What brings you here?” Esme asked them brightly. Edward rolled his eyes as Alice groaned.

“Oh, business and miscellaneous,” Edward told her. The fact that she had asked _at all_ was a terrible sign. It meant Daddy Dearest hadn’t okay’d a meeting with her. Which meant he was going to yell at them. “How have you been?” he simpered, already annoyed at the upcoming tongue-lashing. Esme only laughed good-naturedly at the question and waved them both in. She didn’t buzz to alert their father, but she didn’t have to. Emmett sat next to her desk and dipped into the candy bowl she kept there.

Anthony Mason was almost pretty, once. He was where Edward inherited his angular, Grecian features – but on the older man they had melted due to decades of extreme drug and alcohol abuse. He was obviously furious, highlighted by his clenched jaw, as his adopted daughter leans up to give his sunken cheek a kiss. Edward and Alice both sat in their seats and waited for the dressing down.

“What on _earth_ do you two think you were doing?” Mason Sr growled.

Edward scoffed, and crossed one leg over the other, leaning back in his chair. “I didn’t do anything!” he protested immediately, even though he wasn’t entirely sure what his father was referring to.

Knowing how strict their father could be; he could be angry at thirty-two things Edward had done in the past week. But Edward loved lying and would probably keep claiming innocence even if this turned out to be something he _had_ done.

Alice, though, pouted and puffed her cheeks out a little. “I don’t remember …” she said with a sigh, fluttering her thick long lashes at their father. “Daddy, are you mad?” she cooed sweetly, “Look, the bottles are more expensive, but they’re _cuter!_ ” she argued, stamping her foot for emphasis. Edward rolled his eyes – even he knew this wasn’t about _Sixth Sense_. He also had a feeling trying to divert his anger wasn’t going to work this time – such a tactic was better later on in the day, when the man was sufficiently liquored up.

Mason Sr shook his head slowly. “This isn’t about what you’re stocking the club with,” he began slowly, gearing himself up. Alice slumped into her chair in defeat. “I heard you’ve been signing for people’s debt,” his eyes land on Edward. Edward was forever furious that he inherited his mother’s green eye colour; his father’s brown-almost-black eyes were much more intimidating. “You better not make this a habit, boy, I expect better from you.”

Edward was offended and glared at his father. “ _Oh_ , I see,” Edward started, with no small amount of attitude, “It’s not enough that I’m taking over all the responsibilities you can’t be bothered with. But now if I want to buy a boy, it’s as though I’m putting _you_ out? Like it’s _your_ money?” Edward asked rhetorically and with extreme indignation. “Maria was dying to suck up to me by giving me a present,” he added sourly. He was getting scolded about some poorsie he hadn’t even got to fuck yet.

Alice nodded, “Yeah, since when did police care what happens to a Native?” Alice asked, and laughed at her own silly question, before her expression straightened as she wanted to get down to business. “Daddy, did you know Maria Rodriguez has _full_ control over where–”

Mason Sr raised a hand to stop her, still frowning. “Enough, this isn’t about Maria either,” he snapped darkly, and Alice was just one more interruption away from becoming extremely sulky and impossible. “Except for the fact that her club was raided the exact night you visited.”

Both Mason children froze at his words. They hadn’t been informed that the police presence had deteriorated into a raid. Usually pigs just liked throwing their weight around, asking around about some crime they wanted to pin on someone, and were otherwise largely ineffectual. And it took a lot to surprise the likes of Alice and Edward Mason.

Edward scowled, wondering if the boy he’d literally _just_ bought was currently rotting in some jail cell for Partying While Brown or something. “Like it’s our fault?” Edward asked, but he was feeling a funk coming on, because he’d planned on calling the boy over tonight. “It’s not like we’re gangsters ….”

Mason Sr slammed a hand on his desk, and the noise made both children jump. “The uniforms asked after you two!” his voice was dark and loud and he pointed to each of them in turn. “I don’t know if you have a _fucking_ leak or you’re just being _fucking_ lazy – but I won’t tolerate either of you getting involved in her shit.”

Alice blinked her big eyes wide open, the picture of sincerity. “We promise, daddy!” she chirped earnestly.

Edward, though, only crossed his arms. “You can’t tell me I can’t keep the boy,” Edward told him, his voice only one step above a whine. “Maria gave him to me because she’s an uppity bitch who tried to mess with me!”

Mason Sr shook his head and waves a hand at Edward, dismissing him and any of his concerns. Happily, Edward primly excused himself and left the room, leaving Alice to her own fate.

Alice sat, short enough still to swing her legs on the chair. “I’m having Rose become your new best friend, Ally,” Mason Sr told her. Alice rolled her eyes; Rose was pretty much as close to a best friend that she had, and she also had to pay her.

Alice met her after Rose stabbed a guy a few years back – her ex-boyfriend or something. Dr Cullen, who had been on the Mason pay-roll since before Alice was born, had hid her from the cops when they came looking. But Edward had come looking instead. Rose already worked for the Mason’s – she was a dancer at a Mason club paying back the cost of her transition. But Edward must have seen potential, or he was just bored, and Rosalie was elevated from a dancer to Alice’s personal assistant in about a year. But Mason Sr still made it a point to have Rose report to him.

“I’m sure all Edward did was pick a boy,” Mason Sr said calmly, “but you, my little dove, I don’t trust at all.”

Alice glared, but didn’t dare protest. If she kicked up a fuss over Rose, who she usually loved, Edward might let slip about that cute piece of Maria’s trailer trash Alice was after.

She gave a dour nod. “… Yes, daddy.”

Rosalie Hale sat in the front seat with Emmett McCarty. He was bodyguard and chauffeur for when the Masons drove together, but when they didn’t he was all Edward’s. Probably some vague reminder that the Adopted Asian was only for show or something. Rosalie didn’t think about what that made her, since when she wasn’t trailing after Esme Platt at headquarters, she was usually working on the phones at Alice’s interior decorating company after the woman fired whatever secretary blinked at her wrong.

Emmett complimented her blouse, which was tight at the bust, and she’d thanked him, but she didn’t feel the need to talk to him further. She didn’t really enjoy small talk – she’d just have him eat her out sometime this afternoon.

It didn’t help that Edward, already on his phone in the backseat, told them to pipe down.

Rose was pretty glad to be on Alice duty. Usually, she was stuck running from one side of the city to the other on Esme Platt’s orders, as the woman was first secretary to Mason Sr. It was far better than the clubs – the pay was shittier, but at least she wasn’t required to bleach her asshole anymore. Plus, she liked being closer to Emmett – they had a casual thing, but Rosalie didn’t like him straying too far. He was the first man she’d ever had that didn’t have a cis-girl up front while keeping her a secret – as far as she knew. This way she could get some fresh air _and_ keep an eye on him.

Emmett was devastatingly cute, big arms and bigger dimples. But being at the beck-and-call of the Mason siblings didn’t leave him with a lot of time to secure a paramour. Since Rosalie was in the exact same situation, they found themselves in each other’s beds more often than not. Rosalie had a drawer at his place that she tried not to dwell on. She’d bought silk pillowcases for him and he had a key to hers that he always asked permission to use.

Emmett pulled up at the dance studio Alice had classes at, and the little woman cheerfully climbed in with no need for good-byes to her classmates.

“Alice if you don’t stuff your fucking tutu in the trunk next time!” Edward growled, as he did every time he came to pick her up.

Ignoring him, Alice called from the backseat, “Rosie, you’ll be doing some ret-con for me today!”

Rosalie glanced at her in the rear view and gave a nod. “Sure, babe. On who?”

“Her name is Jasmine Whitlock and I’m gonna steal her from Maria after the IRS takes her stupid Hasa Nina,” Alice declared darkly, her freshly reapplied lip-gloss flashing dangerously in her sneer. “She’s cooked the books so bad, she’s gonna see her place _burn_!”

Edward groaned at her ire. “You can take your Porche then,” he said, making a shooing motion with his hand, “I’m using the town-car.”

Rosalie ended up going for a job interview. She and Alice did indeed take the Porche after switching the plates and were swiftly pulled over for speeding. But Alice’s name didn’t result in tickets in this town and the policeman apologised nicely for his mistake.

They eventually made it to Hasa Nina. Where Alice shooed Rosalie off with a doctored resume. Rosalie steps through the first set of doors but pauses before the second to give herself a quick once-over to check her appearance.

While she’s there, a muffled agitated conversation floats through some small side swing-doors that were marked ‘EMPLOYEES ONLY’. Curious, she creeps a little closer.

A very tall, dark and handsome type glares down at a blonde woman with rattier jeans. Impressive since both their outfits looked like shit. “Wait, what do you mean?” tall, dark and handsome exclaimed, “The roster’s already come out this week!”

“Well, things have changed, Black,” Blondie was a Southerner. “You’re not to come back here after today. And that’s on orders even higher than me.” She stood well, shoulder’s ram-rod straight and hip cocked, a firm smirk in place. Even though she was speaking to a much more physically imposing guy, she seemed very in control.

Black looked upset and worried. “… I don’t know how I’m supposed to pay her back without this job.”

Blondie laughed in his face. “That’s over. Your debt’s been bought,” she explained, mockingly wiggling her eyebrows. “Mr Mason will see you now.”

At that, Black straightened up, looking furious. “Fuck this!” he snapped, turning and stalking straight to the door Rosalie peeked through.

She was sure he’d seen her and blew this whole thing, but Blondie caught his arm roughly and yanked him back. It looked like an easy feat, despite Black being at least a foot taller than her, and quite a bit broader.

“Language, friend,” Blondie cautioned lightly, taking quite a large step into the taller man’s space. Rosalie is certain she’s about to see something that would suit Edward’s more Catholic tastes, like a pegging, or a spanking – when Blondie slipped her fingers into the guy’s back pocket with a predatory grin.

But she stepped back just as briskly, now holding the phone she’d pilfered.

“Can’t let you leave with a trail that comes back to us, now can we?” Blondie asked, before dropping the phone, and crushing it under her boot.

Black gaped at the damage and seemed to be riling himself up to say something. But it’s obvious Blondie’s amiable front was all gone now, her pretty blue eyes were cold and mean. “Now scram,” her hiss was an obvious warning.

Black did as he’s told, eyes wide and panicked and thankfully too focused to catch Rosalie peeking.

Quickly, she skipped ahead and through the main second doors into the club. Her quick entrance was harried and loud, and she found a young man cutting fruit and an older man sitting at the bar flicking through papers. They had both stopped what they were doing to stare at her.

She grinned, making sure to still seem a little nervous. “Um, hi! I’m Rosalia!” She raised her resume hopefully and walked towards them. “One of my girlfriends told me you had openings here.”

The man sitting with what she could see was a shift roster gave her a creepy once-over. “We might,” he inclined his head and took her resume, flicking through it absently. “Ah, you speak español?”

“ _Si_. Um, a little,” Rose grimaced and glanced over to the man behind the bar. He was just staring at her, task forgotten. She really hoped he wouldn’t become a problem. Emmett never got jealous – but sometimes he threatened to put her in an un-sexy type of time-out by claiming that he couldn’t get it up when she was mean to him. Which wasn’t true, but he could sulk with the best of them.

“You seem like the right kind of girl to have here,” he leered, but Rosalie had gotten used to that type of behaviour since she finally got her tits done. “You got black clothes?”

“Yeah, um, most of my shirts are scoop or V-neck, though ….” she muttered, knowing that was probably what he wanted to hear. She wasn’t surprised when he agreeably reassured her that was acceptable.

Rosalie took down the information for her first training shift, thanked the manager, and ignored the way he leered after her as she left. Alice was where she left her, half a block down. The tiny lady crackled like a madwoman in her disguise; which was just a pair overly-large sunglasses and a headscarf.

“This is going to be _good_ ,” Alice promised, and Rosalie tied her hair into a ponytail to stop it from getting too tangled up in the wind as Alice sped dangerously away.

Edward was winding down from a day of icily berating underlings and trying to get a politician he went to high school with to take one measly little bribe.

And now, he still had Maria’s debt. He swapped what could have been some top-tier revenge for a young man to do his chores.

Edward almost snorted into his scotch and glanced around his spotless lounge. Well, his mind was on sex; nice debt-repaying sex, easy to accomplish. It meant Maria was placated with no debt, and his father couldn’t very well claim he was going soft on what was literally going to be a human dildo. A win², he was sure.

There were a few knocks on the door and Edward downed the rest of his drink quickly.

“Come in,” he called out, and in a few moments the very beautiful boy from the club walks in, Walmart-jeans and a minimally shittier shirt on. Edward doesn’t bother hiding his displeasure. “Dressed up for the occasion I see,” he muttered.

The boy scowled at that remark. “ _Sorry,_ just got off work,” his clipped tone reveals none of the apology, and his bratty tone was very well appreciated, though Edward wasn’t going to let him know that. “Thought I wasn’t gonna wear them for long anyway ….” Edward smiled to himself as he set down his tumbler and snapped his fingers twice for the man to step closer.

“You’d be right about that. Come on – off,” Edward said, flicking his hand at the man’s torso and his very awful clothes.

Instead, the boy stuck out a hand, almost poking Edward in the chest. His eyebrows raised, “Name’s Jake.”

Edward, not pleased with the proceedings, but at least amused, shook the offered hand loosely. “Edward, but I doubt you didn’t already know that,” he answered, wiping the hand he used on his shirt. Jake watched the gesture with a blank expression, but Edward just stepped past him towards his bedroom. “Follow me and leave your shoes here but do give me your test results,” Edward added, reaching out behind him and waiting for the rustle of paper in his hand.

He brought it forward and scanned the results. Dr Cullen, Alice’s foster father, from so long ago, who also primarily acted as Edward’s surrogate father, signed off on them himself. Completely reliable, and the boy was clean. Good, Edward really hated condoms and he certainly didn’t plan on using one if he was getting fucked instead of paid.

“Excellent, take your clothes off and wait here,” he said, mentioning around his bedroom when they reach it and goes to his desktop to scan the paperwork. He flicks on the bedside lamp and his desk lamp but doesn’t bother with anything else.

He didn’t look up as Jake strips, and barely registers him sitting on the bed. When a copy of his results are safely stored on his computer, Edward took a moment to ditch his watch and turn the lamp off at the desk before walking over.

Jake’s hot – a very well-defined physique, without the sharp edges of a gym rat, softer and wider. A working man, very quaint. His tan’s not even; a slightly milder brown in a straight line around his hips and high on his thighs. Made Edward a bit harder than he already was.

Jake, it seemed, was not one to sit around waiting primly while he was admired. He glared at Edward’s stalling, and raised an eyebrow. “We gonna do this, or what?” he snapped.

“The grouchy thing’s kinda doing it for me,” Edward told him cockily, sauntering over to him, only to grunt as Jake grabs him and drags him downward.

Jake rubbed toothpaste on his gums when he stepped out of the bathroom, freshly washed. Edward admired his bare torso but kept his leer to himself when he noticed the boy’s sour look, his eyebrows high on his forehead.

“Where’s my shirt?” Jake asked, glancing around the floor as though they didn’t both know he’d left all his belongings neatly on a chair.

Edward shrugged, “Tossed it.” He was hoping Jake wouldn’t look in the trash can next to his desk. “You’ll wear that when you see me next,” he nodded to the nice blue Henley he’d laid out. Masculine, but tight enough to show Edward what he paid for.

“I don’t take charity,” Jake shot back instantly, scowling.

Edward scoffed – he didn’t give charitably. “I don’t care. You’ll wear it when you see me next,” he repeated slowly. He wasn’t sure if it was the fact that Jake just fucked him – _very well_ might he add – in order to repay a loan from a cartel shark. Or that Edward was initially a little offended that Jake had even told him his name – that gave off a vibe of equality in this relationship. Jake was here to do as he was told and not much else.

Jake seemed to understand that _after_ a little staring match that did nothing but waste Edward’s precious time and he shrugs on the shirt and the rest of his clothes and grabs his wallet and phone. He glances at it, and scowls again.

“What’s with the money?” Jake sounded even more annoyed than before. The brattish tone sort of turned Edward on again.

“Thought you might prefer prostitution to indentured servitude,” Edward explained, but his phone buzzes and he glanced down at a text from his driver.

“I thought it was like a mix of both already,” Jake replied as he ties his shoes. Edward had stopped altogether listening, since Jake had already overstayed his welcome by not leaving straight away.

“You don’t want it? Give it to the first forgotten man you see,” Edward said, shooting him an irritated look that hopefully compelled him towards the door. “You want it? Buy yourself an Xbox. I don’t care,” he snapped and snapped his fingers towards his bedroom door because Jake didn’t move at all.

Jake takes the hint then, and with an eye roll he finally heads towards the door. “… Fine. Later.” The door slams behind him.

Edward knew he’d probably call him over again soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Forgotten man' she's so potentious - just say homeless well I watched 'My Man Godfrey' okay


	3. Chapter Tiga

Rosalie rolls her eyes at the other bartender in the middle of their mid-noon shift. Nothing but gang-bangers and drunks at one in the afternoon. The bartender, Manny, smirks back.

He’s one of those soulful writer types that Rosalie loathes. Mostly because they remind her of Edward. Dumbass jock-pigs she knows all about — how to ward them off, how to reel them in. Her face was _au naturel_ , getting the attention of men has never been a problem for her.

It wasn’t as though she doesn’t know how to do the same with these Scottie Fitzgerald-types, but it’s twice as tedious. The trick is keeping her mouth shut while they project onto her. To complain just a touch of her jock boyfriend and how different they were. How much better Scottie is compared to him. To appreciate how he’s _so_ well-read and educated. It took twice the ego-stroking to get these nerds to eat out of the palm of her hand and she rarely has the patience.

“You’re coming out to blow off steam with us tonight?”

This isn’t the first time Manny has asked that question – but at least he grew up rough enough not to be a whiny little bitch as well. “I don’t know if he’ll want me to,” Rosalie replies with a small shrug.

Manny’s mouth thins into a line. “He doesn’t own you,” he replies curtly. Rosalie fights the urge to roll her eyes; she knows Manny wasn’t raised soft enough not to know how an abusive relationship worked. You didn’t just get pissy because she isn’t ready to leave yet. Thank goodness she’s just lying about it – plus she’s confident he’d probably rather beat her ass if he ever found out her pussy was store-bought.

“I just want to spend more time with him,” she keeps her voice soft and her head down.

Manny sighs in an obviously annoyed way and gives her the cold shoulder for a solid twenty minutes. Rosalie is glad for the silence – he got really irritating when he wanted to explain something inane to her. When he did she only manages to accomplish half of her intended recon, besides.

But she can’t let him continue to stew – she actually needs to find out about how much pull Manuel’s gang-banger older brother has.

She calls him over to stack trays of glassware with her. “Hey, are you mad?” Rosalie asks him quietly.

Manny sighs again, as though speaking to her causes him pain. Or maybe the pain is caused by the fact she isn’t as desperate to blow him as he is to be blown. “It’s not that, Rosa. You know I just want you to be happy.”

Rosalie smiles prettily at him. “I know, you’re really sweet,” she tells him, watching him shrug it off, though obviously pleased. “You’re really different from your older brother,” she adds, frowning a little. His brother, Benny, is harder and bigger and even more of an asshole.

But at the mention of his brother, Manny laughs. “Yeah, he’s a bit much. But he’s a good guy; really proud I went to university,” Manuel explains. Rosalie nods thoughtfully, and, approving of her continued silence, he continues, “He attracts the wrong type of girl though. Like, last one, this bratty woman-child who was _crazy_ , kept crying rape and shit.” His disgust is evident.

Rosalie takes a long, deep breath and forces herself to nod. “So dramatic,” she agrees automatically. But she’s beginning to feel distant and has to pull herself back a bit.

“Exactly, maybe grow up and stop gossiping,” Manny glances up at Rosalie with a small smile. “Like you, you’re really mature.” Rosalie tucks a strand of hair behind her ear while she glances down bashfully.

“Thanks, I guess,” she looks up at him through her lashes, making sure Manny can see her small smile, “It was nice of Benny to get you this gig.”

At yet another mention of his brother, Manny’s eyes flick up to her, slightly guarded. “I mean, he terrifies me but if _you_ say he’s okay ….” Rosalie mutters, flicking the towel she’s wiping the bar with absently.

Manny puffs his scrawny chest out at the mention of his good opinion. “Yeah, English major’s top choice,” Rosalie laughs nicely with him at his heavy sarcasm. “But hey, he looks out for me. Of course, it’s not as though he doesn’t rely on me too.”

Rosalie nods her head, doing her best to seem interested. But not too interested. A small smile, a thoughtful hum – that’s all men needed to be encouraged to blather on in front of her. The leaps and bounds they’d take to see the body language they wanted to see. The way they were _starving_ for her to find them interesting.

The shift passes slowly as it’s not a very afternoon. On Fridays and Saturdays, Rosalie seriously wondered if this undercover job is worth it. She can leave, fall out of the Mason sibling’s good graces and go back to stripping.

But she knows she’d burn out twice as quickly as before. Plus, it isn’t so bad, with the Mason siblings – at least it gave her Emmett and it was almost like having friends.

Manny and Rosalie wipe down the bar and sling their aprons into the laundry bin as soon as the boss waves them off.

Manny offers to wait for Rosalie’s boyfriend to pick her up, even when she tries to tell him it’s fine. He didn’t listen and they stand on the curb in the parking lot behind the bar.

Rosalie uses it as a chance to bring up Manny’s older brother again.

“So, how _does_ Benny rely on you?” Rosalie prompts him in the silence, “He has you proof-read his tweets?” she laughs immediately after she said it – she wasn’t _that_ stupid.

Manny laughs too but shakes his head. “Just last week, he’s making me keep shit for him for work,” he says, clicking his tongue and nodding back to the bar with a wink.

Rosalie feels a thrill! She was beginning to get the right kind of information. But she tamps down her excitement and glances at the ground. “Oh, just small stuff, though?” she asks, letting just the right amount of wariness into her tone. After all, drugs weren’t a subject to be taken lightly, not in this neighbourhood.

Manny mildly hums the affirmative, “Yeah, I mean, the packets _are_ small.”

Rosalie takes just a slight step back, eyes wide as she flutters her lashes a little, as though she’s trying to hide her shock. “Wow, is that how you blow off steam?” she asks, letting her voice go up one octave.

Manny finally picks up on her growing trepidation and is quick to assure her. “ _No_ , work’d kill me,” he insists, “and so would Benny.”

Rosalie puts her shoulders down, and a soft smile graces her face. It’s enough and he settles too, putting effort into making it casual. “I swear, we just sit around and chill. You should come.”

Rosalie looks away, hoping Emmett would show up before she has to try and blow him off for the umpteenth time. “I mean, would it be dangerous with that shit?” Rosalie asks. Manny frowns – because girls who worked at this bar didn’t just shy away from fun because of a few packets, unless they were hiding something. “Well, it’s just he would _hate_ it if he found out,” Rosalie says, rolling her eyes.

“Oh, that’s awful,” Manny replies with no feeling. He almost looks bored. Rosalie considers chasing this lead. She isn’t going to sleep with Manny – _nothing_ Alice wanted would be worth that. But it might be worth it to suffer his asinine company a bit longer.

Rosalie shoves a hand through her hair, shaking it out behind her and making sure Manny’s watching her do it. “Yeah, he’s so soft it’s embarrassing sometimes,” she agrees harshly, but almost immediately tries to laugh it off. She glances at Manny, hoping to seem coy while making sure he was listening. “Um, but I guess I love him,” she shrugs and now Manny’s openly grinning. “It’s … cool, you know. I get it, Ferdinand does a lot for the community.”

Manny nodded eagerly. There were talking about the local celebrity and their big boss, after all. Boys like Manny grew up with stars in their eyes over him. “Yeah, he bought my neighbourhood a swing set, you know, and a slide,” Manny’s voice is quick and excited, as though he’s still the little brat that appreciated some playground equipment. “I mean, the older kids made it their place to smoke, but the thought, you know.”

Rosalie nods, because she used to be the first-gen kid, a boy raised in poor, too dirty to even be gentrified, places like this. Rosalie knows what Ferdinand’s men did here; the drugs, the guns, the girls. But hey, a playground here, maybe frequenting the local bodega – you could be a regular community organiser. It isn’t like he’s a gangster or anything.

Manny shrugs, “It’s coming back here by tomorrow,” he stares straight into her eyes, brows furrowed. “You know how it goes.” Manny looks away to wave to the bouncers, who wave back, switching shifts. Rosalie waves at them too.

“Of course, work’s where that stuff belongs,” Rosalie agrees. Emmett’s jeep turned into the parking lot, and Rosalie turns her back to it, grinning at Manny. “Screw what he wants – I’m gonna try and come over tonight,” she promises with a breathless whisper, before rushing off when Emmett beeps the horn.

Rosalie spends that night sitting on Manny’s dirty kitchen island, with Manny standing in front of her. They swap a blunt between them while he traced his fingertips over her thighs – he talks about how much he loves Bukowski and the colour of her hair. It’s a tedious waste of a night and she gives him a prolonged hug to show how much his really original and insightful opinions have touched her, like, mentally and sexually.

He walks her right to her car door, where Emmett sits in the driver’s seat. For an ugly moment, Rosalie considers slapping the man across the face when he rolls his eyes at Emmett, who was on his phone.

Their heads and shoulders are out of sight of the driver, Rosalie stands right next to the passenger door, with Manuel an obvious distance away. He leans forward awkwardly – and brushes his lips against her cheek. His eyes are bright and excited – as if he were making a cuckold of her man and being completely discreet and sneaky.

As though Emmett’s blind because he can only see their torsos through the window.

She smiles, though, coquettish, and folds her long legs into the car. Manuel waves them off cheerfully.

“Why did he give you, like, the weirdest kiss on the cheek ever?” Emmett asks as he peels away with a screech. You didn’t drive for the Masons and obey speed limits – it just wasn’t done. There’s a wrinkle between Emmett’s brows, but he, as always, isn’t overly concerned. Rosalie just shrugs and ties her hair into a ponytail.

“No sex tonight – drop me off at mine. I need a big, girly bath.” She shudders thinking about the amount of roaches that had no doubt scuttled under her feet tonight. At least Emmett fucking vacuumed. Emmett gives a little displeased grunt, but turns off at her exit. “Quit pouting – I’ll send pics!” she snaps at him, not particularly angry – her voice just usually comes out forceful, Rosalie’s a forceful person.

Plus, it’s always the most flattering way to spoil Emmett – he immediately brightens, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel, obviously looking forward to it, as he damn well should.

“I need to coordinate with Alice. I’m quitting tomorrow,” Rosalie adds with a smirk.

Emmett dimples back at her. “Snatch me some Grey Goose!” he says, puppy eyes excited and Rosalie finds herself laughing as he explaines how easy it would be for her to pretend a bottle of Gentleman Jacks is a third boob.

_Okay, babe, it’s all done. Time to come back home._

Rosalie glances down at Alice’s text, and grins. Time to blow this taco stand. She pocketed most of the tips when no one’s looking and unties her apron.

“Hey, bossman?” she calls, getting the attention of the guy who’d spent most of her two weeks here talking to her tits. “I quit!” she throws him the finger as she marches out of the door.

“ _Rosa?_ ” Manny shouts after her, looking gob-smacked.

She doesn’t bother responding, she’s already blocked his number. She doesn’t need the last pay-check, after all.

Emmett waits outside in his old trusty jeep and grins when he sees her.

“Had fun, babe?” he asks as he opens the door for her to climb in – as it gives him the perfect position to watch her ass. With the way Rosalie arches her back to show it off, he _better_ watch. Her ass augmentation cost her a pretty penny and half a year in a girdle.

If she had to go back into a customer service job, she would have just started stripping again. “I’ll have more fun when you fuck me back home,” Rosalie replied. By ‘home’ she always means Emmett’s place. Emmett guns the accelerator, always eager, which is always cute. Rosalie counts the tips she’d snatched with relish.

–

The police raid finds the stash of goods at _Hasa Nina_. Just as Alice had wanted. She’s also very grateful to Rosalie for gathering the intel on when it was being moved.

Alice leans back in her chair with a pleased sigh. She’s in the office, for once. A sleek, white room in a minimalist design, in the garishly upscale part of the city.

An interior decorator; that’s fully and legally her profession on paper and it would hold up in court. It makes her look inconspicuous if you don’t ask who raised her. So, it’s easy to leak just a little information to a cop that’s only semi-dirty. The type who could look the other way at trafficking undocumented women – but drew the line at selling precious white teens coke.

“Lauren, I need sustenance!” Alice calls. On the other side of the room, her new assistant dutifully trots up with a pen and pad. She stares at the woman for a moment. “… I need suggestions,” she informs the girl slowly. Alice doesn’t have time for this bubbly, Sorority-pinned cheerleader.

“Oh!” Lauren snaps her fingers eagerly. “Um, there’s this really cute sushi place on fifth?”

Alice shakes her head, “Seaweed is all sticky, pass.”

“Um,” Lauren taps her pen to her chin for a moment, “I know a good authentic Chinese restaurant near my gym?”

“ _No_ ,” Alice draws, eyes narrowing. “What about a place where you don’t need to specifically ask for a knife and fork?”

Lauren frowns. “You can’t use chopsticks?” the girl askes back. The question, for a moment, threw Alice back into her elementary classroom.

Alice suppressed her shiver, but only barely. It was an innocently-toned question, but Alice wasn’t paying the woman for a micro-aggression. Alice remembers the other girls in school – just as blonde, just as perky, asking her the same question in the same, put-on, clueless tone. The mean glint in their eyes – the way Alice _knew_ they were mocking her.

Alice scowls fiercely. “There’s a deli two blocks down,” she snaps, her voice all but a growl. “Get my usual, or don’t come back.”

Lauren, easily able to see her boss’ shift in mood, nods hurriedly and turns on her heel to flee the room. Alice watches her go with mulling reproach.

She ‘s in a foul mood now and it makes her doubly mad because her plan has worked so _well._ A lesser woman than Alice would be worried about the tip to the dirty cop tracing back to that gorgeous Southern woman. About what would happen if Jazz wasn’t able to outrun the people Alice has claimed she had betrayed. But Alice wouldn’t be Alice if she wasn’t sure of her decisions.

Quite a few years on the streets did give a girl some margin of street-smarts. Alice’s confident that after Maria finds out her precious right-hand man allegedly sold her out, Jazz would have no choice but to be flushed straight out of Ramirez territory and straight into the areas already run by the Masons. When she’s there, she’s as good as Alice’s property.

Alice smiles to herself, very pleased with her work. She always does prefer getting what she wants.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think!


	4. Chapter Empat

Edward squints as he reads the piece of paper. He’d found it on the floor of his room. Since he didn’t make messes and no one is permitted into his space, he could guess who it belonged to. He’s pretty sure it’s a faded gum wrapper – if the waxy sheen tells him anything.

The chicken scrawl is the only challenging thing to determine. Whatever school Jake went to must have been largely computer-based because Edward’s boarding school made them take penmanship classes. The note is the address of some run-down little store, and ‘ _Bells doing open_ ’ in a shaky heart.

Edward has no clue what the terribly-worded sentence meant, exactly, but that didn’t stop him from strolling into the store a few hours after it opens, on a day Jake worked at his cousin’s garage. Edward’s no fool. He let the boy have his leeway – he’s allowed Jake to gripe about how the phone Edward had thoughtfully supplied him with was weirdly slow for such a new model. Jake didn’t need to know that was because of the amount of spyware Edward had loaded onto it.

It was a precaution Edward took quite seriously – Jake is, after all, allowed access into his home and as such Edward couldn’t really afford to take chances. Luckily for the both of them – Jacob was either a next-level super spy, or an incredibly mundane man. Edward feels confident placing most of his bets on the latter.

This was for fun, mostly. He’d read the texts to this ‘Bella’ – lots of ‘good morning’ and ‘sleep tight’ and heart emojis. He _definitely_ wants to meet the woman he’s sharing a dick with. She doesn’t need to know who _he_ is, though she might recognise his face if she reads the trashy magazines at the grocery store check-out.

It’s a bookstore – musty, dusty, cheap-as-hell. Edward glances around, careful to keep his coat tucked around him so it didn’t brush against any of the filthy surfaces. He doesn’t know what it was about independent bookstores that made mildew so acceptable.

There’s a squeaking sound, the light rumble of a wheely chair, and a few footsteps. Edward glances up and a pretty girl gives him an awkward and thin-lipped smile. “Hey – how are you today?” she asks with a polite bob of her head.

Edward’s gaze does not linger – pretty, sure, he preferred better-polished, difficult women. They were more of a challenge. It was only his men he liked docile, which he largely assumes is a dominance streak bred into him through his youth.

“Just looking, thanks ….” he tells her, though in his disinterested once-over, he spies her name-tag and brightens considerably. “Bella, that’s a lovely name,” he says, turning properly to watch her bashfully tuck a piece of hair behind her ear.

“Thanks,” she shrugs, “nick-name, actually.”

Edward walks over to the counter, where she had slumped over her elbows – her posture leaves a lot to be desired. Leaning against the counter himself, he tries for a smile instead. “Edward – not a nick-name.”

“Unsurprising,” her brows dart up, and for a moment, Edward’s thrown by how familiar it made her look. Then it clicks – Jake made that expression pretty often too. It looks just as good on her. Maybe they shared the same pairs of giant, shitty, Goodwill jeans.

Edward’s just snooping, after all. It wasn’t as though he careds if Jacob has a girlfriend – that wouldn’t really effect their arrangement. But he’s been more than a little curious, and he likes knowing everything. It was part of his job, after all, and it keeps him alice. But now, seeing the unrefined but still appealing side of this woman, Edward’s intentions have started to shift.

“I was hoping, actually, if you had a copy of _The Man Who Laughs_?” Edward asks, grimacing lightly in a put-on, hopeful way.

She looks vaguely surprised – which vaguely insults him. He’s the one from the fancy boarding school, after all. “Big Victor Hugo fan?”

“No,” he replies dryly, “I just think Gwynplaine’s hot.”

She laughs, bright and surprised, and Edward’s struck by just how  _pretty_ she looks laughing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not nice to Bella I'm never nice to Bella I'm probably rarely going to be nice to Bella. Good luck girl.


	5. Chapter Lima

Jazz can barely breathe, but even if the group’s bearing down on her, it isn’t fear constricting her chest, but anger.

She was fourteen when she signed herself over to Maria. At twenty, Maria was already an adult in her eyes, and closer to a God. She gave Jazz everything she never had; her car, apartment, phone, clothes, food. But as soon as Maria heard one dumb fucking rumour – she took it all away. Of course she did; she didn’t need to be tied to Jazz’ murder, too many loose ends and she’d seen Maria do it before, but to her?

Twelve years of loyal service, of every kind, and she threw Jazz away like she was a grunt of barely six months.

The only thing Maria left her is a death sentence, in her books. Luckily for Jazz, she wasn’t a dumb-ass and she had been on the streets five years prior to Maria fucking up her life. Some say nine’s a bit too young to give up on your parents, but Jazz had always thought nine was too old to continue hoping for peace after being born into abuse.

She just hadn’t expected Maria to snatch away her support this quick, though, so she’ll have to be quicker.

Jazz turns her back on the apartment she’d almost felt comfortable calling home for the last time and heads down three blocks on foot before hailing a cab. She gives the driver inane directions, sitting in the passenger side to allow for a better view than the darkened back windows.

She has to leave the stupidest and most confusing trail for any tails she has on her. She figures an hour of going nowhere is plenty and tips the driver a little too less than sat comfortably with her, but she had to be careful with her cash now.

Jazz goes to an old acquaintance. Freddie, sells shit phones and keeps her emergency duffle for her in a locker in the back for five dollars a month. The duffle’s nine years old but she is glad she hadn’t tossed it. She grabs a burner phone too, and dials Pete.

“Bitch cut me off, I need a car,” she spits into her ex-foster brother’s voicemail.

Sweeping her gaze from side to side as she ruffles her hair, she catches sight of the two men closing in on her. They’re so close, and a black car pulls up. She was rusty, she was careless. She was gonna end up a description scrolling across the bottom of the evening news.

She calls Peter again, “Hey man, forget the last message. Thanks for sticking by me this long. Take Charlotte and fuck off, yeah? I have money in our old apartment, that shit one, you know where. Take it and get out of here – this city’ll be the death of me.”

Jazz hangs up, tosses her phone down an alley and straps her duffle tighter across her chest. When looking death in the face, you can bet she’s going to run in the opposite direction.

When she runs, she’s just glad she stuck to her Nike and not the Hugo Boss that pinched her feet. Maria probably took those too. Jazz remembers the streets, the back alleys, the open gates; she isn’t the fastest, but she’s agile, and she’s smart.

She shakes them off on foot, something that makes her viciously proud – she’s still got it. She makes it into the shitty apartment and shakes off the memory of pizza deliveries and getting drunk with Pete on Saturdays. She remembers almost happy memories, when she thought Maria might have liked her the most. She remembers being really fucking stupid.

Jazz wheezes out a sigh of relief, still mostly catching her breath from all that running. She goes to her old room and clicks her tongue at the bare mattress on the floor. Maria hadn’t know she still kept up the rent. Hell, Pete will probably has no clue until he listens to the voicemail.

“It’s gross in here, I’m not surprised this is where you really live,” Alice’s voice is mostly amused, but Jazz’s heart jumps to her throat.

A business tycoon at twenty-two and standing barely five feet – even checking her out at the club the first time they met had felt more like a privilege than anything else. And getting her interested glances in return felt like a pretty big damn honour. But she’s the daughter of Anthony Mason and coveted younger sister of Edward – there are rumours that it was she who was next in line if Mason Sr. conked it.

Alice’s tiny as hell and a messed-up part of Jazz sort of wanted to hold her really tightly. Like squishing a baby animal. But still Jazz can remember the mark Alice’s grip had left on her wrist for days after she’d grabbed it. The fact that getting off with the bruises sending little jolts of pain straight to her pussy was irrelevant. But the way Alice is looking at her, it was almost like she knows exactly how much Jazz had liked it.

Her mind feels strangely smothered now Alice’s near, almost warm. Her guard drops almost on instinct when she looks into her warm caramel brown eyes. Alice raises her arms to her, and Jazz steps inside her hug almost eagerly. Alice smiles and asks for a tour.

Obliging, Jazz shuffles her around the tiny space, waved vaguely in the direction of the kitchen and the bathroom, and Alice eyes the short steel spiral staircase that led to the bordered upstairs pigeon roost labelled the loft.

Jazz has a feeling that after she finished the tour, one of them would do something. She didn’t know what that _was_ , but she’s finding it hard to focus, hard to concentrate on anything but Alice’s pale little face.

Alice leads them back into her old bedroom, smiling as she wrapped her arms around Jazz’ neck. Her smile does not reach her eyes, she appraises Jazz like an antique. Before her eyes drops to Jazz’ brand, burnt into the meat between her neck and shoulder.

‘A’ for Anthony, the Mason she got a warning brand from when she first pissed them off, again on Maria’s orders. But you only get one chance, and Jazz supposed Mason Sr sent his only daughter to clean up.

Jazz has never been anything but a fighter; getting out of her father’s house, living on the streets, climbing her way up the ranks to the top of Maria’s nice list. She’s fought for everything, and no one would accuse her of being the type that accepted death.

But for this woman … if Alice wants her dead Jazz’ll probably do the job herself. She’snever been so obsessed and desperate then when the little lady touched her skin. Her head was swimming with this primal need to do right by her, and Jazz’s sure she’s been drugged somewhere along this wild couple of days.

“What do you want?” she asks her gently. Jazz sounds resigned even to her own ears.

Alice hums a little, “You.”

The answer fills her with a tender sort of validation. Her little hands push Jazz down onto her dusty mattress and Jazz wonders for a moment if Alice would let her eat her out. Jazz is good at it, she wants to show her how good at it she is.

But Alice only smiles and took a little scalpel out of her pocket, with a plastic cap over the blade that she plucks off. Jazz looks at it, uncertain about how Alice plans on killing her, the way Alice eyes her neck. She can’t very easily slit Jazz’ throat with such a tiny thing and she almost offers her the knife in her boot when Alice drops into her lap, silencing any thought she might have had in her head. God, Jazz can feel the heat of her through her jeans.

Alice’s eyes are on that little ‘A’, and she looks furious. Jazz feels guilty, like she’d failed, that she has such a distinct mark on her skin that seems to bring the lady no pleasure.

“I’m sorry,” Jazz whispers, hanging her head in shame. She should have behaved herself, so that Alice would never look at any part of her with that much hate.

The first cut she makes Jazz almost screams. Alice didn’t cut gently; just dug the little blade straight down, to the hilt, and the blood ran thick and hot down Jazz’ chest. Jazz is vaguely aware that her binder’s probably completely ruined. The pain radiates so deeply Jazz is almost able to compartmentalise, like in her youth when the beatings wouldn’t stop.

Jazz lets the pain wash over her, she focuses solely on Alice’s face – the way the tiny pink tip of her tongue poked through her glossy lips is riveting. She doesn’t move, can’t stand the idea of upsetting Alice if she does, and Alice continues to make little cuts as the blackness begins to eat away at Jazz’ vision, until she can’t see a thing.

When Jazz wakes up, she’s primarily surprised by being able to open her eyes. And she certainly doesn’t expect to wake up on a white fluffy bed. But she’s pretty much naked except for white briefs. Which she doesn’t remember owning. Why the fuck is she nude, is this heaven? Did you have to fuck God to get into heaven? If that was all she has to do she’ll probably do it.

The room’s entirely too white and relies on texture to be able to actually see anything. It fucks majorly with Jazz’s eyes, and she squints as she takes in the balcony windows and three separate yet identical doors on all the other walls.

Her neck burns. She can’t bring himself to reach up and touch the damage, but it burns so badly she doesn’t want to move at all and risk making it worse.

One of the doors open, and Alice steps into the room. Jazz immediately covers her freely-hanging breasts – desperately wishing she still had her binder. Alice smiles when she sees her, but Jazz’ too wary to do the same.

“You look pretty in white,” she says conversationally, “the tattoos are interesting.”

Alice’s eyes give away very little, Jazz realises, as she watches the little woman watch her. Jazz’s urge to cover up intensifies.

Her tattoos were numerous and in no particular pattern or colour-scheme.

A dagger under her left armpit, the long edge over a scar from a plate thrown at her.

An eye perpendicular between her breasts with the pupil right over where a cigarette had been snubbed out.

The red kiss on her ribs.

The brooding face of Caravaggio’s _John_ _in the Wilderness_ on her shoulder-blade.

The trashcan on her inner elbow over her track marks.

She even has a pair of angel wings framing an immaculate heart on her lower back.

“Thanks?” Jazz guesses, but Alice hadn’t said she _liked_ them. Jazz had gotten them because she wanted permanent ways to change herself, or cover old hurts – she didn’t know if she herself particularly liked them either.

“I didn’t realise you had _quite_ such a nice figure, either.”

Jazz lets the arm around her chest drop, a little flattered. She’d starting binding for a more androgynous look, for safety on the streets. But then she finished puberty, on Maria’s pay-roll, with a substantial bust and kept binding to keep leering stares away from her. They were usually just a distraction.

“I like ‘em smaller, myself,” Jazz finds herself saying, and lets her eyes drop to Alice’s own outfit – before she realises she probably shouldn’t have pointed out that the Princess of an underground empire had tiny tits. Especially since Jazz is probably about to die.

But Alice just smiles mildly, walks to the bed and plugs her phone into a cord on the side table. As the screen lit up, confirming it was charging, Jazz feels a deep sense of dread fill her stomach. This’s her bedroom. What is she doing in Alice Mason’s bedroom?

Alice climbs onto the bed and sits next to her. The spells from before had worn off – Jazz doesn’t feel half so desperate for her, and the fact that she ever did has her worried and warier than ever.

“Does it hurt?” Alice asks, looking up at her with a little pout. “I’m sorry.”

Alice tucks her legs under herself and Jazz wants to moan a little – how is wearing a thin little white nightie the way to treat a guy on your hit list?

She watches as Alice turns her back to her and leans over the bed. She sticks her ass high in the air, as she flips herself further down, almost under the bed. Jazz’s mouth waters at the sight of her white silk shorts. She feels as though she can reach out to touch … but Alice straightens up and pulls a familiar blue packet out from under her bed.

“You want some Oreos?”

Alice rips open the cookies and scoots back into the pillows. Alice was still eyeing her – and Jazz shakes her head when she realises the offer was genuine. She was still in so much pain she was getting nauseous just swallowing her own spit, let alone food.

Shrugging, Alice plucks one out with her pretty little fingers. Jazz rests back against the pillows herself and watches as Alice pries the cookie apart and laps at the filling with her tongue. Jazz scowls as the peek of pink makes between her legs throb. And wearing nothing but underwear she knows Alice would see it if she got wet.

“This is a weird way of murdering a guy,” Jazz points out. Can’t very well run away in her undies – plus, she has no clue where she is.

Alice shoots her a bit of an annoyed look. “What’s with you and murder?” Alice drops the packet next to her. “It’s really morbid.”

Well, that’s not the answer she expected. Jazz blinks, too startled to think of an immediate response.

Not that she entirely expected to be murdered right in Alice’s bedroom – but the whole situation’s throwing her off. Black suits running after her and her bridges with Maria burnt to cinders, and she thought Jazz _morbid_!

“Am I not condemned?”

Alice settled into the pillows and pouts her lips out, looking childishly thoughtful with her eyes on her cookie.

“You _were,_ ” she replies, sounding almost bored. But she does glance at Jazz once before her eyes flick away. “Don’t overestimate your worth – daddy doesn’t care what strays I pick up,” she mutters, but the words don’t sting, even as Alice even begins to smirk. “It’s not like we’re gangsters or anything.”

Alice’s saved her, from her father, from his company, from Maria. That small look, and being practically naked on her bed, all screamed that _she_ is the reason Jazz is still alive.

“… Thanks,” she says quietly. In her books, if Alice saved her life – that meant she owned it now. Alice, for her part, doesn’t acknowledge her words and picks up another cookie.

Jazz has another glance about the room. Hopes she isn’t about to be some sex-sub in here for the rest of her life. It’s really hard to tell if Alice even had furniture, everything was so white. Jazz’s fucked up, traumatised brain can’t really parse this décor. Jazz wonders lightly if that was the point.

Alice snacks on Oreos while Jazz watches, but the next time Jazz blinks it’s much darker and Alice’s clicking around on a laptop on her thighs. Jazz’s shocked at the complete dampening of her survival reflexes. She’d fallen asleep.

Alice doesn’t acknowledge her when Jazz sits up and idly scratches her old track marks. Then she freezes – she’d just ripped off a fresh scab, and she can feel the sticky blood under her nail. Someone had stabbed a needle into her recently.

Jazz had used in the past but she’s never fallen into addiction – somehow God spared her that pit. Fighting the terrifying idea of being drugged into complete obedience, she coughs a little to loosen herself up. “Do I get pants?”

Alice glances over at her and smiles. “Tomorrow,” she chirps. Jazz narrows her eyes and tries not to openly show her displeasure. But that word immediately puts her on edge. “Don’t worry – I’ll even give you a binder,” she adds, not looking away from the screen.

Jazz feels her own blood smearing across her fingers, it makes her slip, she grimaces – gently, so as not to stretch her tender neck. “Do you have a band-aid?”

Alice’s lips quirks up. “It was for the pain. You’ll live.” It did settle her somewhat, though she did actually want a band-aid, but is much too uncertain to bring it up again. Instead, Jazz glances down at the clock.

“I’m guessing a phone would be out of the question?” she asks Alice quietly. Jazz’s aware she’s running the risk of skating on thin ice on this point, but Alice doesn’t seem at all bothered.

“Sure – but you left it in that alley,” Alice says, flashing her a wicked grin. “Did you want to go back and get it?” there’s a laugh in her voice that makes her even prettier.

Jazz shakes her head, smiling angrily at her own folly. Alice _must_ have been watching her since she made her hurried exit from her old apartment.

Jazz glances around; the room’s easier to take in the gloom of night. “We’re not at your daddy’s house, are we?” She can’t hear the sounds of traffic at the windows, but she can see an expansive balcony. Jazz knows Mason Sr has some penthouse in the city.

Alice’s tone is still mild as she says, “these questions are boring me.”

Jazz feels a chill up her spine and mutters an apology. She could cuss herself out for pushing this hard. That question had been obvious, after all. She backs off immediately for the same reason she isn’t attempting to book it out of here.

Primarily because Jazz knows the Mason heiress is heavily guarded, so she wouldn’t get very far, nor would there be any question of who has the upper hand here. Also, she still feels a genuine need to please her – Jazz finds herself deeply hoping Alice doesn’t actually find her boring.

She snaps out of her thoughts when Alice’s little hand touches her shoulder. “You’re cold,” Jazz says, surprised at her chilly fingers. Alice shrugs, and crooks her finger, prompting Jazz to climb back up to the pillows and settle down next to her.

Alice reaches over to pull at Jazz’ opposite shoulder, as though to pull her closer. “Keep me warm,” she says gently. Jazz feels the adrenaline and stress of the day collapsing into exhaustion as she obediently shifts over to press her face into the side of Alice’s belly. She’s almost overwhelmed with the feeling that after all that fuss, she’s so tired ….

–

There’s a loud banging on the door. Jazz bolts upright before she’s properly opened her eyes. It’s morning and she’s alone. Her neck throbs with pain. Her stomach groans. She hadn’t eaten in two days. The Oreos are still there, and she grabs two and stuffs them in her mouth. It isn’t much, but she’s gone with less for longer.

The banging starts again, and Jazz grabs the sheets off the bed, wrapping them around herself in a demented toga, mindful of her tender shoulder. After grabbing the bed-knob and giving two tugs to confirm that it won’t budge and she didn’t have a weapon, Jazz reluctantly shuffles to answer the door.

A huge black dude in a good suit grins at her. Jazz already knows who he is – a hillbilly, Edward’s constant muscle for the past five years. “Hey guy!” he booms, “I’m supposed to take you places! I’m Emmett.”

“Jazz.”

They shake, and Emmett tells her to get dressed and mosey on down, before he meanders downstairs himself. Jazz watches him go and frowned. She certainly didn’t see her clothes yesterday. She glances back to the giant bedroom, and her eyes land on some clothes thrown over a couch. She walks over to inspect; a pair of Armani jeans and some 3-dollar black t-shirt. She puts them on, and almost left without noticing the balled-up socks that she ducks back to grab too. Her Nike sneakers were at the door and she slips them on absently as she heads downstairs.

Jazz is surprised, now that she can see the rest of the apartment. While Alice’s room is completely white – the rest of her dwelling is relatively normally coloured. Most of her possessions looked like they were worth more than Jazz, but still.

Emmett sits at the island of a giant chrome kitchen, dicking around on his phone. Jazz clears her throat. She regrets it immediately; the wound on her neck flares up and she grunts in pain. Emmett looks up and nods towards an empty glass, a water pitcher and a pill bottle sitting on the counter.

“She said take two and the bottle.”

Jazz examines the bottle, surprised that it _i_ _s_ just aspirin. Jazz does as she’s told, and Emmett takes her to the garage. He heads towards a black SUV, but Jazz spots something else.

She points to the red convertible. “Why can’t we take that car?” she asks, and Emmett’s responding grin is like a little boy’s.

Riding in a convertible is fun only if you like being watched. Jazz certainly did – especially since she needs to be seen, to consolidate her new position, of sorts. Namely, being well-known under Maria yesterday and being escorted by a Mason man today.

She uses the drive to size up her driver. Emmett is big, but the way he moves screamed bar brawls – no strategy or sadism. Jazz can see the gun under his jacket, but no hint of a blade strapped to him anywhere else. If Emmett’s supposed to take her somewhere thoroughly covered and shoot her, then Jazz can probably get away if she’s quick and really lucky. There’s some comfort in that.

Emmett pulls up at a bougie mall. “Alice said doctor,” Emmett tells her with a shrug.

Indeed, Jazz is led to a white little office, where a white little woman greets her. The woman has her sit on a chair and wait nicely. Emmett flicks through whatever magazine was on hand.

“Oh – Mariah’s thick again,” Emmett nudges her and shows her some not-so-glossy pages.

Jazz frowns, “What year is that?” she asks, which makes Emmett frown too and glance at the back of the issue.

The white little woman raises her head and looks over at them, her manner vaguely disapproving as she calls out, “The doctor will see you now.”

Jazz is led down the hall and an older woman greets her with a firm handshake.

“Hello there, Jasmine,” the woman smiles and bids her sit on a plastic chair next to her desk.

“Prefer Jazz,” she mutters immediately. She feels her skin crawl at the use of her full name. It was so soft and girly and everything that had never applied to her. Jazz slumped down, keeping low and slouched.

The other woman inclined her head to acknowledge her words. “I’m Doctor Sadarangani – the usual Doctor couldn’t make it,” she explained pleasantly.

Jazz didn’t ask who the usual Doctor was. “Make it for what?” she asks instead.

The woman pauses, glancing at where Jazz waits patiently for her answer. “… I’ll be checking your neck, and doing a general physical,” she says slowly, carefully, “You also asked for a sexual health check – didn’t you?”

Jazz nods once. “Sure I did,” she lies with an easy shrug. Whatever Alice wanted is good enough for her. But by the Doctor’s squirrelly attitude, Jazz can guess perhaps booking medical appointments without the appointed patient knowing about it might be on the sketchy side. And if this Doctor’s squirrelly about the sketchy side, she certainly _couldn’t_ be the usual Doctor.

Jazz did as she’s told for the duration of the check-up. It was always a little embarrassing to piss into a cup, doubly so when her piss is acid yellow. The stirrups are another matter entirely. Jazz closes her eyes and makes sure to forget about it.

But the Doctor remained professional and courteous – which confirmed Jazz’ hunch that the woman didn’t have a clue who she was, or—more importantly—who Alice was.

As they’re finishing up, the Doctor says conversationally, “Carlisle will be thrilled to meet you next time. Though I’m sure you’ve already heard all about him.”

Jazz isn’t sure how to answer, and jolts when a small hand with pink nails rests on her shoulder. Alice.

“I hope there’s nothing to worry about,” Alice says brightly, ignoring Jazz’s flinch. She’s watching the Doctor nod placidly before she beams down at Jazz.

Jazz manages a grimace in return—though she’s impressed Alice managed to sneak up on her. The lady seems to have a habit of doing so. The Doctor bids them to finish business with the receptionist while she clicks away at her computer, and Jazz follows Alice out.

Alice pays for the appointment, which Jazz chalks up to a point in her favour since it means Alice’s personally looking after her health. Plus it’s out of her hands – due to the fact that she’s currently without means of any kind. Maybe Jazz is a hostage, if she thinks about it carefully. Well, largely a willing one, so maybe not.

They depart the centre, Emmett must have taken his own leave, as Alice leads Jazz out of the mall and down a block to an up-scale restaurant on foot. Truly everything here is up-scale.

“We’re going on a date!” she declares, but then shakes her head to herself. “Well, my brother’s having a date and I wanted to be there for him.” Jazz’s intensely curious about who exactly Edward Mason is taking on this date. Edward’s a loner by nurture, or nature. No boos, squeezes or passing fancies of note. He sneered at seduction and turned his nose up at tricks. Maria had tried a parade of pretty professionals that had all been weeded out and sent back with careful warning injuries.

Alice skips up to the hostess podium, and while she speaks, Jazz scans the room. This is one of the locations Maria would scout out – Mason territory, but very minor. Almost neutral. But Jazz’s surprised this is ‘first date’ material. She can imagine the rich little piece that would choose to dine here. Jazz’s wondering what that says about her, when Alice takes her elbow as they’re taken to their table.

“What’s that face?” she asks her lightly, “If you need to go toilet you can just go, you don’t need to ask my permission for that.” Jazz can only guess what actions _would_ require permission.

“What’s his type?” Jazz asks her, and Alice’s brows meet in mild confusion. “Your brother must be trying pretty hard to please.”

Alice gazes at her face for a moment, before she grins widely and breaks out into a peal of giggles. Jazz frowns, but Alice only waves her off, trying to battle with her own giggles to speak.

“You are too cute!” she declares finally, laying a hand on her arm. Jazz sort of preens under her words, but she’s loathe to show it, so she shrugs and focuses on the foods listed. She didn’t really care for food, and when the waitress comes, she only looks to Alice. She seems to enjoy making decisions for her and Jazz didn’t hate it at all.

Alice only orders them drinks, tea and apple juice, which Jazz assures her that she liked, though she isn’t sure why she didn’t just order their food. “Oh, this is a double-date!” Alice chirps. Jazz nods—though she had assumed they’d be covertly spying on Mason Jr in this restaurant, not joining in.

It’s easy to tell when Edward Mason walks through the door – he throws the doors open and strides past the hostess stand, ignoring the staff entirely. He pauses only to scan the room until he spots his sister, who wiggles her fingers on him. Edward stops dead in his tracks when he sees Jazz. His sneer surfaces on his face like a perfectly-fitting puzzle piece. “… Forget to take the trash out again, Alice?”

Alice only laughs, the comment slipping past her like water off a duck’s back and hitting Jazz square in the face. “You know I’ve never taken out the trash in my life!” she declares happily. But Jazz’s instinct tells her that’s a lie and a strange one.

Edward scowls in response, but Alice only kisses the air at him. “Don’t be mean!” she chides and beckons him closer. Edward takes a few disdainful steps forward, and Alice lays her pretty hands on Jazz’s new neck wound and gently peels off the bandage. Jazz’s very uncomfortable as two people peer so closely at her but allows it as Alice is the only doing it. “Look, look!” she says eagerly and Edward did.

Jazz has no clue what Edward sees there, but whatever it is has made him jerk back, surprise and even resignation on his face.

“… Disgusting.” But his clipped tone is milder almost, though Jazz isn’t sure if he’s referring to her neck or the person it belongs to. Though it mildly alarms Jazz all the same.

Alice gently pets her bandages back into place, and Edward takes his seat. “Who are we waiting on.” Alice’s tone is far from a question as she picks up a bread-stick. Edward nods and they both look to see a white young woman with brown hair in a haphazard bun.

“I hate her outfit,” Alice mutters under her breath as the woman waves at Edward and trots a little faster over to them. She is wearing a red blouse and a brown skirt. She stumbles just a little before she reaches them, and she flushes bright red as she grabs the back of a chair nearby to steady herself. She looks physically pained as she mumbles an apology as the person sitting on the chair exclaims in surprise, and slinks over to them at a more measured and bashful pace.

“Hey!” she says as Edward stood to greet her. She shows no refinement as she kisses Edward’s cheek; apologising for leaving lipstick. Edward only wipes it away with his thumb as the woman looks to Alice and Jazz with a flushed smile. “Sorry I’m late, Bella, by the way.”

Bella then offers her hand to Alice, who blinks at it delicately in surprise, and makes no move to take it. Bella looks vaguely confused in the face of Alice’s obviously insulted expression, so Jazz stands to get her attention, and offer her own hand instead.

Bella’s handshake is not very good—too limp. While standing, Jazz’s able to see more of her. Her nails are short and her shoes have a low heel, and look almost orthopaedic. This is obviously no expensive socialite, Jazz decides as she sat back down. She could be a spy – but there was something too genuine in her mannerism, as though she was overtly perturbed by Alice’s refusal to shake her hand.

Edward makes a point to help Bella take her seat – his manners seem to surprise her, as she had made an aborted attempt to tuck herself in.

Jazz glances at Alice, seeing the little lady meet her look with one perfectly arched brow, before Alice turns her head to meet Bella’s inquisitive gaze. “I’m Alice Mason,” Alice says, smirking slightly, “We haven’t ordered more than drinks yet.”

“Oh, okay!” Bella nodded politely and opened her own menu. Jazz can see the way Bella glances at her, wondering why exactly she hadn’t introduced herself, or been introduced. It doesn’t bother Jazz, though, who also doesn’t bother opening a menu, knowing Alice would doubtlessly choose for her. Edward flicks open his own menu, but his eyes wander over it too lazily to really read it.

The waitress does indeed ignore Jazz this time around, having gotten the message faster than Bella did. Alice orders for two, ignoring the way Bella stares in open confusion, glancing between Alice and Jazz. Jazz has to wonder what Edward planned to do with such a woman.

Alice chats about her work as an interior designer, while Edward’s date talks about her current studies to become an English major or a flight attendant and Jazz’s almost asleep. Bella makes a few attempts to find out Jazz’s name, or indeed anything about her, and Jazz answers are monosyllabic.

Alice allows it three times, before she pastes on a large smile that showed most of her teeth. “Find me boring, do you, Bella?” she asks sharply, and Bella blushes down her her neck and doesn’t try and ask Jazz anything further.

The girl’s awkward, _normal,_ and not at all what Jazz thought Edward would like. It’s Edward Mason, after all – he could get anyone, for free even. Jazz is certain she herself wouldn’t recall meeting his date twice, and in her line of work she needs an excellent memory for names and faces.

It’s when she got a text that Jazz spies something interesting. Bella’s wallpaper is herself, smiling with a friend. A friend Jazz knows quite well – she fired Jacob Black personally, after all.

“Hey,” Jazz says, smiling at her. Bella looks at her with wide eyes, and Jazz nods down to the woman’s screen. “I know him too,” she softly says.

Bella perks up instantly, and beams, message forgotten. “Oh really? That’s so great, he’s one of my oldest and closest friends,” she says excitedly.

Edward looks extremely miffed at not knowing something. “Excuse me—who is this? Who are you talking about?” he demands, his tone much harsher than is warranted as he eyes Jazz darkly. Alice props her hand on her chin and watches them.

Jazz only grins, jumping in before Bella can answer, as she’d hesitated in confusion at Edward’s immediate ire. “Yeah, I saw him last, start of the month,” she says, ignoring Edward’s question.

Bella snaps to attention at that. “You’ve spoken to him recently? Oh god, I haven’t been able to get in contact with him since my birthday!” She now looks extremely upset. “Can you tell me if he’s okay?”

Jazz honestly doesn’t know. “I couldn’t say,” Jazz says mildly. She had, after all, left after smashing the man’s phone. “He mentioned something about needing a new phone, but he never told me the number.”

Bella nods, hands twisting in her lap. Jazz is all too pleased though – if she can keep Edward out of this particular loop, she has a little leverage here.

Edward doesn’t look happy at all, and gentle prodding on his part causes Bella to clam up, asking for a different topic. Alice seems all too ready to move on too, cheerfully ignoring their conversation.

When the lunch ends, Edward escorts Bella out, and Alice hums a little as she pays for the meal. It reminded Jazz that her assets have been taken, and that her future now is extremely uncertain.

She doesn’t really know how to act around Alice, really. Her instincts tell her that Alice isn’t looking for the same things Maria had been, which means she have as much experience here as she didn’t when she was twelve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enter: JAZZ


	6. Chapter Enam

A week later Jake lets himself into the apartment of the prominent member of organised crime – Edward A. Mason. Not that the guy’s some sort of gangster, of course.

The instructions had been pretty clear in his text. _This afternoon. Tell large suited dipshit who you are._ And he has no idea what _that_ meant, but it’s a good way to ruin his day off. He’d actually bought himself an Xbox.

When he makes it to the fancy lobby, there was a big linebacker motherfucker sitting in an armchair.

“Yo—I’m Jake.”

And with a cheery nod he’s led to the elevator—top-floor, of course.

“Just go in, it’s unlocked!” Jake’s told, and with an eerily pleasant wave, the man leaves. Jake tries not to stare after him, but he can’t really reconcile the fact that such a frat-bro works for a criminal organisation. He looked like he should shed the expensive suit and start chugging beers with a cap on backwards.

Inside, the apartment’s still that minimalist shit rich people like, and very empty.

“Hey! I’m here for the …” Jake thinks for a moment, “fucking?”

No answer. This guy’s sort of a bitch, in a hot skinny pale-face way. Jake pokes around as he ditches his jacket on the couch, but monochrome furniture and a locked bedroom door makes this place sort of boring.

The kitchen’s where he finds something out of place. A cooling box of pizza.

 _You can either eat this or throw it out._ The post-it note reads, and Jake eagerly chooses the former. Free food is already a lot better than most of the sex he had sans extortion.

But his gut twists at that thought. It’s been hell paying Maria back for the money he borrowed for his dad’s bills. Steep interest rate and that creepy blond asshole that followed him around every pay-day. But this is sort of insidious too. He’s being coerced into this – he can’t say no, and he doesn’t really want to be here right now.

Jake physically blows out a sigh to shake off the dark thoughts. You don’t grow up dirt poor with a disabled dad and have a strong grasp on ‘healthy’. He’d never been a full-service sex worker before, but he’d definitely done other stuff along these lines. It isn’t so bad, he reasoned—the dude’s a major ass, but he seemed to be getting some extra cash and last time it was made plain that this was an open and shut deal. Fuck and then leave, with a new shirt too. Eddie wasn’t even into anything weird.

Jake picks up the last slice and dumps the box in the bin.

He’s about to wipe his greasy fingers on his shirt when it hits him. Shit. He wasn’t wearing the new shirt. Not enough time had passed to warrant laundry day and he got a little stain on it on the trip home. Panicked, he glances between the door and the slice in his hand, and groans as the door handle turns.

Still gripped with panic, Jake scurries into the lounge room and slumped down into a chair, thanking whoever up there that didn’t make the leather squeak. He’d just tell the guy that no one wears a good shirt to a pizza party. Yeah, that’d work.

Edward’s voice is irritated and precise.

“- I don’t really want to know the details, but frankly I’m willing to wash my hands of this. Send it back or don’t, but don’t get me involved. Alright, bye.”

Oh! Jake can take his shirt off and then Edward wouldn’t know which shirt he brought!

Sucking in a quick breath, he balances the crust he hadn’t eaten yet on his knee and quickly and carefully strips off his shirt and shoves it in between the couch cushions. There.

The footsteps stops at the kitchen, and Jake slowly eases himself out of the chair.

“Great. Didn’t know he was going to be that much a brat about it,” Edward mutters, oblivious to Jake’s creeping presence behind him, to his complete delight.

“What’s up?” Jake asks in his ear, laughing as Edward jumps a little and spins around to face him. His smirking dies out when he realises that Edward looks furious.

Edward eyes the naked torso in front of him and tries to calm his beating heart. He hates getting scared, he’s lived all his life paranoid just to stay alive. But he’s become a little less prone to lashing out after years of waking up with his foster sister crushing him in the mornings and her alien fast reflexes.

Also, the last few bites of a slice of pizza in the boy’s hand helps. Edward had been extremely displeased to see the pizza box in the bin initially, thinking it was still full; he didn’t need a high-handed hood-rat with a chip on his shoulder. Throwing out food Edward had thoughtfully made Emmett order for him to prove some point. But knowing Jake actually ate it gave him a little stab of satisfaction.

Edward’s face falls into a sneer, “You ate the whole thing?” He asks. The boy gives him a flat look.

“Obviously. I look like I waste food to you?” Jake shoots back and offers him the bit of crust. Edward curtly refuses and the other man shrugs and pops it into his mouth.

Jake thumbs back towards the entrance of the kitchen, “The bedroom’s locked?” he prompts in a smarmy tone.

Edward snorts, then clears his throat straight away to cover the sound. “Snooped, did you?” he asks, leaning against the kitchen island and allowing himself to drink in the sight of all that very toned flesh. Boy keeps himself in shape and Edward liked it. He curls a finger around the boy’s belt buckle and pulls him forward a little.

Jake only rolls his eyes and shuffles towards him. “I’ve been here for more than five minutes, so _uh-huh_.” Edward’s dick appreciates the tone, but he knows letting Jake run his mouth isn’t going to end well for either of them, so he shoves past him and heads towards the couch. “Plus, I thought I could just speed things up and wait ass-up on your bed,” Jake adds with a chuckle.

“I don’t need the attitude, and finish undressing,” he snaps, sitting on the back of his armchair and ignoring the corner of yellow fabric sticking out of it. That boy needs to stop it with the jeans that make him look like he just rolled out of a shelter.

“Who even needs a bed?” Edward mutters, mostly to himself, but Jake chuckles from behind him. Doesn’t apologise for his insolence, though, but Edward didn’t call him out on it.

After a very gratifying bout of sex on the couch, Edward is much more pleased with how speedily Jake’s out of the door this time. A quick freshening up in the bathroom and he’s already shoving the envelope with his name on it in his pocket with no comments, though he does scowl a little.

Edward’s sitting on his armchair now, fucking around on his phone and ignoring the cum dripping out of his ass and onto the leather. He almost smirks when he catches Jake hesitate out of peripheral vision. He knows the boy didn’t wear the shirt he’s told to, and he’s enjoying seeing how exactly Jake planned on getting out of this.

Jake only shrugs and picks up his discarded jacket, zipping it up to hide his bare chest. That solution does make Edward consider a second round; Jake’s chest looked really good in just the shitty green jacket.

“Later,” Jake grunts, and Edward doesn’t acknowledge him leave.

–

Jazz has Pete meet her somewhere neutral – it’s time for damage control. Pete brings Charlotte, and they each kiss her cheek. She declares them ‘saps’, but fights a smile.

“We thought you were dead,” Charlotte says, sitting across from her and picking up a menu. The diner is shit but it’s one of the few spots left untouched in this dirty scrabble for land in this city.

“I don’t die easy,” Jazz replies. She shifts, and it reminds her of the new addition to her neck. Alice has said very clearly that she wasn’t to look. The lady swabbed it daily and hummed with pleasure at whatever was forming. But it’s healing, and fast, and Jazz had more important things on her mind.

“Seriously, what happened man?” Peter asks her, his elbows on the table and a serious look on his face.

Jazz wishes she could tell him – that lately she feels like she’s been given the really good stuff, the stuff that made her float, and so far, it’d all been a pretty good trip. One orchestrated and revolving around one Alice Mason. Except it’s real and she’s sober.

“Mason’s goons got me, in a way,” she begins and Charlotte gasps, “Ate out the favoured daughter this morning,” she adds, knowing she’s smirking and not giving a damn. Worth it to see their shocked faces.

“You dog!” Pete shoves her playfully, before continuing in a hush, “So you’ve officially switched sides?”

Jazz sighs, because this is where things got dicey. So far, she feels like a personal lackey. And so far, she isn’t about to question anything about her good fortune. “… I don’t know,” she mutters, “I don’t even know if I’m in the clear yet. My fate rests in the hands of a girl who actually had trouble opening a bottle of nail polish yesterday.”

It makes her scoff now – but it’s starkly true. Alice could get bored and have her killed, if she wants. And who knows what her daddy wants, that’s another thing she wouldn’t let herself dwell on. Too far up the ladder for her to change a thing about.

Charlotte laughs, her curls bouncing with her. “Oh, that’s not too hard to do,” she says airily, “Sometimes, if you’re messy, the polish leaks out of the rim when you wipe the brush and it sticks when you twist the cap back on …” she smiles awkwardly at their disinterested expressions, and laughs nervously at the waitress that walks up to them. “Um, pancakes?” she suggests to the woman, whose tag read ‘Rose’.

“Same,” Jazz agrees, and gives the woman a nod as she leaves, waiting to speak again. Jazz rolls her eyes as the other two eye the leggy blonde, and waits for their attention again, too. “ _My point is_ , if she thinks I’m too much hassle, I’d probably be dead already. I’ll try and figure it out.”

She waves away Pete’s nervous expression, pointing out, “there’s not much else I can do.”

“Here’s hoping she’s got a good attention span,” Charlotte says, uneasily trying to cheer them by flicking her water glass in some mock-toast before she takes a nervous sip.

Three plates of pancakes were served, and Jazz grunts out a ‘thanks’ and begins to eat. So far it seemed she ate what Alice ate; which wasn’t much or very often. Jazz’s used to it, but she definitely didn’t mind an extra meal.

The others follow suit and Pete nudges her elbow. “Should we make a break for it?” he mutters into his flapjack.

“No,” Jazz shakes her head easily, “she gave me a credit card, we don’t have to ditch the bill.”

Pete rolls his eyes as Jazz chuckles, “Oh, she’s on thin ice but she’s not running?” he asks Charlotte, who looks equally as disapproving. “Just doesn’t sound like Jazz.”

Jazz pauses and swallows carefully. “You saying I’m a coward?” she asks quietly.

“I’m saying you’re – usually – smart!” Pete scoffs easily. It’s hard to intimidate a boy you’d known most of your life. “You have the chance – if you want, me and Lottie can catch up with you.”

Jazz shakes her head again immediately. “I’d never ask you to piss her off like that.” Risking the lives of her family would never be an option for her.

“We know,” Charlotte replies, “you’d never have to.” There’s an embarrassed pause; their loyalty to each other is strong, but not often spoken of.

“I’m not leaving,” Jazz says passionately, her anger bubbling up, “I did _everything_ right, and if she wants to throw me out because someone talked shit about me, _fine_. But if I find someone willing to take in a stray ….” she shrugs, popping another bite of pancake into her mouth.

“Jazz, what if Maria doesn’t take this lightly?” Pete asks. Jazz hates how her palms tingle at the mention of that woman’s name.

“I don’t expect her too,” she says harshly. “I say _bring it_.”

She knows deep down she wasn’t one to take Maria’s treatment forever. Whatever’s going to happen was a long time coming. She just hopes she makes it out to the other side alive and intact. Her only hope is that Lottie and Pete weren’t punished for her actions. And that, perhaps, she’d still be by Alice’s side.

Lottie forces them onto a lighter topic, and while they all knew there were still so many things they needed to figure out, all of them remembered their high-school days as the least turbulent part of their life – sitting around in some greasy booth, eating and chatting, when they hadn’t fallen so far into all this shit.

Jazz pays and gives them both a kiss to send them off. Then steps out of the diner and looks around for Emmett. Here’s the car, and no driver – though the man had pinky-sworn he’d give Jazz privacy.

Walking past the car, she pats herself down for cigs and scowls when she comes up empty. Emmett probably didn’t smoke; he has that squeaky-clean all-American routine. She begins to walk down the street, and glances down the alley of the diner.

Well, Emmett could have kept the squeaky-clean image Jazz had of him a lot easier if he wasn’t buried face-first in between the blonde waitresses’ legs.

Jazz almost chokes – it was like Ken and Barbie and a desperately silent, semi-public, cunnilingus session. She scurries back to the car lest she gets caught peeking, and her mind quickly catches up with the scene.

Emmett doesn’t seem the type to shirk his duties. The waitress _did_ take her time bussing the tables nearby as they’d eaten. Emmett isn’t Jazz – there’s no fence involved in his loyalties. Which meant that diner had not been a safe space to talk options. Rose probably told Emmett everything they’d said.

More importantly, as far as Jazz had known, that greasy diner had been free-up. The Masons reach is encroaching and Jazz isn’t sure that’s a good thing.

In a foul mood now, she ignores Emmett’s grin when he comes back a few minutes later and keeps to herself in the car, with her face carefully blank. She knows the Mason’s didn’t get this far being careless, so she couldn’t say she’s surprised that she’s being watched so carefully.

Emmett seems oblivious to her mood as he heads them back to Alice’s house. “So where does Rose normally work?” Jazz asks him.

Emmett laughs a little, light and easy. “She’s Alice’s right-hand woman, but she’s a secretary most of the time. She’s really great …” he adds, though he has the decency to look a little contrite, “I can’t take you anywhere they don’t own – you know that, right?”

Jazz waves him away flippantly. “Sure, sure.”

Emmett nods, cheering up again. “Don’t worry, she didn’t hear anything,” he adds and boomed another easy laugh at his own obvious lie.

Jazz is reading when Alice flounces into the room. She chirps a hello and tells her to meet her in the shower.

She needs to steel herself for a very important conversation. A talk that involves more than asking Alice if she liked it right there. Though, it was an important question to ask. She’d been licking into Alice this morning and when she dug her fingers into two scars she had on either side of her labia to spread her out; she’d gasped and slapped Jazz’s face. It hadn’t ruined the mood that much though – they both liked the red mark that formed on her cheek after.

Regardless, Jazz is no idiot, she has to wait for a good time to breech this sort of topic.

“You didn’t stiff my girl Rosalie on her tip this afternoon, that’s good,” Alice praises her as she undresses. Jazz’s eyes linger on her pale thighs and itty-bitty ass, but her words leave her about as hot as ice water.

Well, shit. Grovelling time starts now. “I did my time bussing tables, I pay it forward,” she says casually, watching as Alice runs the water to her liking and following her in.

“On my card, no less,” she says, her tone light-hearted. But Jazz is prepared to flee this place naked, if she had to.

Alice gives Jazz her little blue bundle of plastic mesh that she dutifully soaps up, “Wash my back, I had the worst conversation with my assistant today; she thought I would look good in _spring colours_! Travesty, I have to find a new one immediately,” she begins her regaling of her day, and Jazz doesn’t say anything as she continues down this line.

Jazz soaps himself up as Alice takes back her wash thing. She’s silent until Alice deems herself clean and tells her to finish cleaning herself up.

As Alice steps out of the shower, Jazz watches as she reaches for a towel. She begins, “I think-”

“You shouldn’t,” Alice tells her and leaves the bathroom.

Jazz follows after, also determined to try to continue; until Alice drops the towel, and Jazz’s brain kind of short-circuits. Now fully nude, Alice sits on the edge of the bed and leans back. She’s pretty close to flat-chested, but Jazz more than makes up for it. What Alice does have makes Jazz’ mouth water.

“Let me guess; you want to talk about your _position_ here, you want to talk about your _future,_ ” she says, rolling her eyes and sticking out her tongue. “We’ll talk after you’re done,” she spreads her knees wide and points down.

Jazz obediently crawls down and gives her mound a kiss. Alice leans back on the bed, and Jazz props one of her lady’s knees over her shoulder. Jazz gives her clit a lingering, sucking kiss that made Alice stutter out a sigh, and strokes the tips of her fingers nicely over the little scars, making her giggle.

“I don’t know what you’re going to be around here,” Alice admits breathily as Jazz continues kissing, each one with a slip more tongue. “I’ll think of something, just not right now.” Her knees squeeze around Jazz’s head, though not worryingly so. Jazz sucks her clit into her mouth, pressing the tip of her tongue against it and rhythmically sucking until Alice came with a gasp and a shiver.

Jazz leaves her limp on the bed to rinse her mouth a little in the bathroom sink. Alice didn’t taste unpleasant; but she needed a clear throat for this conversation. Alice is on her phone when she comes back out, still completely nude from the waist down.

“You can’t give me any sort of outline?” Jazz isn’t going to let this go. Even if whatever she ends up doing translated to a demotion from whatever she used to do, she needs to hear it.

Alice looks up at her, briefly annoyed. “Outline?” she asks, and Jazz nods firmly. “Fine. You’re here to do as I say, whenever I say it.”

Jazz steps up to her. Her fingers trace Alice’s outer labia, and she giggles, but doesn’t put that damn phone down. It irritated Jazz, though she isn’t in the position to show it. “Not just for _that_ stuff, but kudos so far,” Alice winks and she withdraws her teasing fingers.

“I’ll have other things I need from you. Like things about _her,_ ” Alice hums. Jazz isn’t going to play so stupid that she would ask who ‘her’ is. It isn’t as though she wouldn’t already be written off as a traitor or a spy. Her reputation doesn’t matter a cent to her, so long as she could stay alive.

“So, I’m a double-crosser? Your live-in fuck? Your errand boy?” Her voice grows harsher than her intent.

Alice finally puts down her phone, and Jazz feels momentarily victorious. Alice looks at her so coldly, though, that she’s not sure what exactly the lady is going to do as she stands, nude, and all but steps on Jazz’ toes.

“Sure,” Alice says, her eyes bright as her hands were busy picking at the goddamn bandage on her neck, “if you want. You can be all those things and more. Bottom line is – you’re _mine_.” The bandage peels off, and Jazz hisses, though the pain is minimal.

Alice nudges her to a white-framed mirror in her room, and Jazz looks at her reflection. The scarring was meticulous and neat. What was once a singular ‘A’ was now _Alice_ , gouged into her skin, flared red and angry.

“And now everyone knows it,” Alice declares, all satisfaction.


	7. Chapter Tujuh

Alice is really interested in Edward’s new little side piece. He’s a very handsome young man – _hunky_ , even. Super tall, and definitely a swimmer or something, very toned and nice body. Plus, he had really _nice_ teeth. She’s so excited – she hadn’t had a new doll in a seriously long time and making clothes for Edward was always boring, because he’s too picky and didn’t let her do what she wants.

He looks startled to see her reading a magazine in her brother’s bed. Maybe it’s because she’s also eating an ice cream.

He recovers quickly, though, and smiles nicely. “How much do you owe him?” he asks conversationally. Oh. He thought she had the same arrangement as him, how quaint. Alice laughs and shakes her head.

“Just a lifetime of favours. I’m Alice, his little sister and the apple of his eye,” she says, and they shake. He doesn’t apologise for his assumption, though, and raises his eyebrows a little expectantly.

“… Am I supposed to fuck you too?”

“No.” Jazz’s reply is immediate. She’d been leaning unnoticed against the desk and Jake jumps a foot in the air. Alice lets out a peal of giggles. This is so fun. Jacob doesn’t seem to think so, he backs right into the bedroom door.

“What the _fuck_ are you doing here?” Jacob snaps, while Jazz just shrugs. Probably because she actually didn’t know why she’s here; Alice just told her to put on better pants and come with her.

But Alice makes a show of being surprised. “Oh my god, you two know each other?” she asks brightly, “What a small world!” This was going to make the double-date _so_ much better than the one with Edward’s last date. Bella did not seem excited when Alice had suggested some excellent stores, several times. And clubs, and clothes and decorating. At least with Edward’s boy Alice didn’t have to pretend to care about what anyone else wanted to do.

Jake points angrily at Jazz. “You said Maria didn’t own my debt anymore-”

At the mention of That Name Alice’s amusement dries up and she snarls, “ _Don’t_!”

Her outburst shut him up, and she takes a few deep breaths. “Okay, this is mine,” she tells Jacob, mentioning to Jazz as a whole, “so you don’t need to pay ‘em any attention.”

She takes Jacob’s shoulders and pushes him into the living room, where the lighting was more complimentary, “I’m just here to measure you for a new suit.”

“Why?” Jacob asks.

“Friday night,” she tells him, grinning and snapping her tape measure taunt in front of her. “Clear your schedule!”

Jacob is a very good sport; no grumbling or eye rolling about it. He stands there and holds each limb up or down and he even sticks out his tongue when she jokingly asks him too. He smiles when she just laughs, though it seems more an expression of comfort than being a genuine smile.

He only seems a little uncomfortable when Jazz walks out of Edward’s bedroom and starts watching some sport on tv but seems content to ignore her in turn.

“Okay! You were both so well-behaved!” Alice praises them absently, much busier taking her notes and heading to the door. Jacob’s putting his shoes back on when Jazz got off the couch to follow her, but she shakes her head. “Drive him home when he wants,” she tells her and leaves the door to swing shut behind her on its own accord. She has so much designing to do – she doesn’t need to get distracted by Jazz’s come-hither baby blues. Her eyes were sort of slutty, like the rest of her.

Jazz isn't sure about how she feels having Alice's name on him. On one hand, she deeply loves it, but it didn't give her the stability or power that would keep her safe.

No doubt Alice knows that. Maybe this was a test, see how loyal to Maria she might still be. If she would go crawling back to Ramirez land if she isn't given a title with the Masons. Jazz knows that busty blonde waitress probably mentioned that she'd shot down Peter's suggestion of running from this. And now she's stuck with the boy she used to collect money from, which is sort of back where she started.

Except she isn’t beating anyone with a pipe and declaring vague threats to pay what they owed. It’s a weird way to complete some circle. Jacob had been easy to lean on, though, and Jazz didn’t have anything against him.

But for now, the kid just sits uneasily on the couch. Jazz gets the feeling he was waiting for _her_ to be ready to leave, and it’s more power over someone than she’s had in a while. So she sits and watches the game – more because she could than actual internet.

Eventually, Jake seems to get bored of the silence. “She know where you are?”

Jazz doesn’t like the question and certainly doesn’t know the answer. “You don’t ask that,” she says simply. Jazz’s position might still be up in the air, but Jake’s isn’t – and he is decidedly below her.

Something happens on the screen that makes Jake click his tongue. Jazz is a little surprised Jake has actually been watching the game.

“Well – you were you rooting for?” Jake asks, and Jazz turns to the screen to realise that the game was over.

She shrugs lightly. “None of them. I just wanted to make you wait.”

Jake doesn’t seem very impressed with that answer. “… You know, you used to scare the shit outta me,” Jake says, and Jazz huffs out a breath but doesn’t say anything.

Suddenly, the screen goes black and the words ‘GET OUT’ flashes repeatedly on-screen. Alice did mention Edward was a bit of a dictator. “Well, fuck,” Jazz says and stands up to do as the bossy screen said.

“Wh-what is that?” Jacob asks, looking startled.

“What control-freak lives here? He wants us out, better do as he says.”

She nods towards the door, and Jacob scrambles to follow her out.

“How does he know we’re in here?” Jake asks as they leave. Didn’t need to lock a Mason’s door – no one was stupid enough to make that necessary.

Jazz’s almost charmed at the kid’s ignorance. Though considering Jake’s position, it’s probably more alarming. “You think a guy like that just has his space camera-free?” Can Jake _afford_ to think like that?

Jake lets out a pained groan. “Shit! He definitely knows about the shirt ….” the boy mutters, offering no elaboration, and Jazz doesn’t ask.

They don’t talk as Jazz drops Jacob off right outside his building. Jacob doesn’t ask her how the woman knew where he lived, and he also doesn’t thank her for the ride. He just walks inside, ignoring the squeal of the tires behind him.

The double date is going well. So far Alice and Jazz had yet to show up and Jake had just eaten a family-sized Shepard’s pie on his own. Edward had watched, and he seems both impressed and disgusted.

Edward had told Jake that he isn’t allowed to ignore him on his phone on ‘outings’; though Edward seems to be constantly tapping away for ‘business’ – he just wants Jake’s full attention and has no intention of reciprocation. Edward is a bit of a control freak.

“So, what now?” Jake asks when he’d finished eating. “Do you want me to blow you in the bathroom?” He’s becoming extremely bored just sitting around waiting.

“Yes,” Edward says instantly, and begins to get up, before spotting something over Jake’s shoulder that makes him sigh and sit back down. “Perfect timing, Alice,” he says dryly, “We were just about to leave.”

Edward shoots back up again, and Jake can see why. Alice looks extremely upset and is sporting one hell of a shiner. “What happened to your eye? Where’s your dog? Did she hit you?” Edward grabs his sister by the arms and shakes a little.

“Maria did!” Alice wails. Jake notices that her sobs get no reaction from the serving staff clearing away the remnants of his pie – probably the perk of a private room. “She stole! She’s a stealer! Or maybe she decided Jazz was better off dead than with me – she was really limp when they shoved her into that van ….” she trails off with a pathetic sniffle, her mouth pulled down into a crumpled little frown.

Edward sighs, and doesn’t point out that it’s Alice that stole first. It’s obviously different when a Mason stole. He scowls at her, before letting her go and reaching into his jacket. “… Fine, I’ll help,” he says heavily, “Jake, use this to pay.” A silver card is left on the table, and Jake grins at it.

“Come back soon, baby,” he calls after them, as the Mason siblings make a hasty exit. “I miss you already.”

Edward pauses long enough to look disgruntled, but says nothing. As he leaves, Jake’s smile drops from his face, replaced with a heavy scowl as he eyes the card he was given.

Obviously, he has to take it with him, but why? Jake can skip town with this, the amount of money Edward had. Or maybe it only has a certain amount of money and Edward wants to see what he’d do.

Well, Jake would do as he’s told, since he wants to get out of this situation debt-free and still able to walk. So far, it seemed following the rules is a pretty stable choice.

Getting Jazz back is proving to be a treat. Edward doesn’t want Maria to catch any scent of them, so, with Emmett, the three of them takes a ride-share to the shitty side of town.

The driver seems to be the chatty type, which instantly puts Edward in a bad mood. “To the docks, then?” the driver asks, smiling nicely.

Edward just grunts in reply. The driver looks ruffled by his obvious displeasure, but it’ll be a cold day in Hell when Edward cares about what number of stars he’s given for paying to be driven somewhere. Alice spends the entire car ride dabbing on concealer to hide her bruise. Emmett’s on his phone. Edward looked out the window and tries to focus.

Maria has taken Jazz back after eight days. That’s quite a long time – she has no way of knowing what Jazz has told them in the interim. It’s doubtful Maria knew Jazz was actually not the leak about the stash that had Hasa Nina shut down. Rosalie’s actual source would benefit nothing from ‘fessing up, and Alice simply isn’t that sloppy. The way his sister was parading the stray around town might have simply gotten on the other woman’s nerves.

Edward sends a message to Jake. _I’ll be done with this shit soon. I want you in my apartment waiting._

It’s only a few moments later that he gets a reply. _Good luck w Maria haha_

“Emmett,” Edward doesn’t turn to the large man squished docilely into the middle seat, but he knows Emmett’s listening. “Do we have men with Nina?”

“Absolutely not, boss-man,” Emmett lies cheerfully.

“Good,” Edward mutters.

The car stops, and they climb out. It’s truly filthy around the warehouse. The trio idle on the curb for a moment, Edward dallying to pull out his phone, while Alice uses the streetlight to check her concealer in the yellowish glow and her compact mirror.

Alice snaps her compact shut passionately, looking startled.

“Jazz!” she declares feverishly, as though she’s forgotten why they are even standing in this shitty place. She darts ahead of them. “Come on! Rosalie should already be in position!”

–

Rosalie strides past the office door’s of one Mason Sr – where the loud shouting of a man deep in his business could be heard. The waiting room is empty, and Rosalie goes straight to a smaller door, tucked out of the way like a bathroom. She knocks twice and waits.

“Come in,” the cool voice of Esme Platt prompts Rosalie to walk inside. Her office is surprisingly spacious, given the size of the door. The furniture is glass and chrome and expensive. It shows the importance of Esme’s position – she’s the last barrier between Mr Mason and the outside world. It’s not a position taken lightly.

“I have news, Ms Platt,” Rosalie tells her smoothly.

Maria is sitting at a card table, playing poker and sipping cider from a can when they approach. She doesn’t bother looking up at them. Jazz had been trussed up and waiting, between the newcomers and the table.

Her jeans are streaked and filthy, even blood showed up as brown as dirt on heavy denim. Most alarmingly – her shirt had been torn open, and she has no binder on. Emmett and Edward are both gentlemen enough to ignore her sizeable bare chest. Blood is dripping from her mouth and dribbling onto the three molars on the floor in front of her.

Alice pouts when she sees them. “I’ll get you veneers, baby,” she says sweetly to her.

Jazz rouses slightly at the sound of Alice’s heels on the floor, and at her voice her head lolls limply up.

“Those ain’t mine,” she purrs, her voice reedy but darkly amused. She smiles widely, showing incarnadine teeth, all accounted for.

“Well that’s disgusting,” Edward helpfully informs them.

“Welcome, Masons,” Maria declares grandly. She waves to a few empty folded chairs. “You can join, if you’d like,” she offers, smiling with only her lips.

“I’m not playing for her life!” Alice informs her indignantly, pointing one finger down at each of her next four words, “ _Finders. Keepers. Losers. Weepers._ You’d thrown her out, remember?”

Maria hums a little, taking another sip from the can. “ _No I didn’t_ ,” Maria says slowly, exaggeratedly. Like she’s speaking to a baby. Alice begins to sneer, an expression that settles on her face identically to Edward’s. “She ran away before I could kill her.”

Edward crosses his arms and cocks his hip. “Maria, you’ve vastly underestimated this situation,” he tells her, droll and bored. “It’s not some card game in the seedy underground. It’s a game of chess, and we’re not the ones moving the pieces.” He flicks a pointing finger between Alice and himself. Maria nods in agreement, and her cronies snicker. “Neither, I’ll say, are you.”

As if on cue, her phone begins to vibrate and _ping!_ with numerous notifications, and she glances at it, but doesn’t move to answer.

“You should check your phone,” Edward advises her, airily. Alice giggles. “Our fathers’ have been tattled of this situation.”

Maria scowls, and grabs up her phone, scrolling through her messages. It was a bit of a low tactic – after all, what adult couldn’t clean up after themselves? But Edward never did enjoy playing fair – plus, it was warranted. This wasn’t a scuffle over turf or minions or resources. Alice had been primping at home when Maria had come to collect. And that’s too dirty, even for them. Snatch her traitor off the streets or in their club; but a home invasion? Too intimate, too personal.

“You broke into my sister’s own bedroom and gave her a black eye, like some common hood-rat,” Edward snarls. Alice nods emphatically, because no-one touched her unless she wanted them too. If one Mason seemed weak and fallible, then they both did. Maria watches them both darkly now – she realised the gravity of the situation, should their fathers become involved. It would make Maria seem weak, like she’d lost something. Like she was loosing control.

“You act like she poached from you,” Edward snorts dismissively, eyes on Jazz’s hunched over form. His expression becomes mockingly simpering. “All Alice did was take in a pathetic stray; she’s got a big heart.”

Maria glances between, torn between worry and anger. Because even she knows perhaps she’s too far North to make the same impact as she would back home. Maria had crossed a line that meant something here, especially to a Mason.

Alice and Edward can pinpoint the exact second she decides to concede defeat. They wear identical smirks as she shoves herself upright. “… Get up,” she mutters, and her lackeys don’t seem to initially understand that she’s referring to them; as she keeps her murderous gaze on the Masons. “ _Fuck off_ , you little insects!” Maria snaps, now glaring at the card game, which breaks up instantly, her people scrambling to do as she bids. Maria holds Edward’s gaze as they disperse. He meets her gaze just as coolly – only breaking eye contact to yawn loudly behind his hand.

Scowling, Maria heads towards the door on the opposite side of the warehouse but pauses to turn and glare at them again. “This isn’t over, Edward.”

“I don’t care,” Edward tells her simply, and she just turns, and her LBs take her out of the door.

Alice gapes after her. “You’re giving _him_ the last word!?” she points to Edward with disgust. “You picked this fight with _me_!” she shouts after the woman, but she’s gone.

“You keep looking down on me and you _will_ regret it! You dress like a middle-aged woman! Old bitch!” Alice rages after Maria, and at her voice, Jazz seems to react, starting to move.

“Emmett, fetch,” Edward says, snapping his fingers and pointing to Jazz, who is trying to stand on her own two feet and doing poorly. Jazz slips on the pool of blood from her own mouth and crashes back to her knees with a grunt. “Gross.”

Emmett hurries over to help, propping the woman on her feet, gingerly trying to pull her torn shirt shut while making as little eye and skin contact as possible. Emmett eyes the blood puddle on the floor. “Wait – whose teeth are these?” he asks, tone confused.

“I want them,” Jazz wheezes, “pick ‘em up for me.” With an enormous grimace, Emmett gingerly does so. Edward is sure he’d be disgusted too, but he isn’t the one touching them, and he has a much stronger stomach than the Tennessee logger’s son.

Alice remembers Jazz’s presence now, and, pouting, cuddles up against her side. Jazz manages to get to the warehouse door between Alice and Emmett, and Edward cuts her free with the hidden knife in her boot when she asks.

Jazz rolls her neck and shoulders, as Emmett calls for Rosalie now that Maria was clear, and Alice attempts to dab some of Jazz’s bleeding cuts with a pantyliner she found in her handbag. “That was your plan?” Jazz asks, looking between the two of them. “Just tell on her to daddy?”

Edward shrugs, already thinking about how he’s going to be fucking Jake in less than half an hour. “Well yeah, why fight when there’s no need? We’re not gangsters.” Alice and Edward lock eyes and laugh between themselves.

Alice pulls out a tiny sewing kit, and focuses on the part of the rent in Jazz’ shirt that was directly between her tits. “She’ll never see these again!” Alice whispers fiercely. Jazz thanks her nicely, her voice muffled by her rapidly-swelling facial injuries.

Emmett whistles at the big black Jeep that pulls up. It’s Rosalie, still dressed as though she had been in the office; barely-flattering pencil skirt and blouse. She looked over Jazz with mild interest.

“Am I the cavalry?” Rosalie laughs lightly.

“Rosie – look what I got! Again!” Alice chirps, and they all climb into the car. Emmett gets front seat, Edward never rode passenger unless he’s being driven by an equal. But he also doesn’t seem glad that Jazz is in the back too; getting prodded and cooed at by Alice.

The car ride is silent, for the most part. “I need you to send a message,” Edward says, eyes on his phone screen but the words directed to Emmett.

Emmett hums in agreement, “Express or usual?”

Edward shrugs with one shoulder. “What’s the reply time on usual?”

“A week, but it’s safer.”

There’s worry in Emmett’s eyes, as though he isn’t sure Edward would prioritise the men and women he sent to infiltrate his enemies. It’s a valid concern, Edward knows the value of spies but didn’t care too much about their lives.

“Usual, I suppose,” Edward sighs, “I want to find out what Jake did, everything. Even before Maria, in fact. I would like to know him completely. No surprises,” he says, there was something about his eyes that made them seem very green, at the moment.

Emmett nods, his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. “You got it, boss-man.”

Weakly, from Alice’s other side, Jazz chuckles wetly. “Scared of you,” Jazz coos mockingly. Annoyed, Edward reaches out and jabs a finger into the red scars spelling his sister’s name and grins when the cowboy hisses sharply.

“Don’t hurt her!” Alice protests, shoving her brother away irritably. “That’s my job,” she adds with a dark leer.

“Yes ma’am,” Jazz replies wetly.

“Get a _room_ ,” Rosalie declares from behind the wheel.

Jake is texting on the couch when the door to Edward’s apartment opens. He didn’t even bother looking up.

Edward shucks off his jacket and slips out of his shoes. He walks past Jake, barely pausing to lean down and eye his phone screen, chuckling lightly when he sees the display.

“Miss me?” Edward asks, tone bored as he stops by the drinks cart. He makes himself a neat Irish Martini – vodka, chilled, hold the vermouth.

“Yep.” Jake pops the ‘p’ with equal disinterest.

Edward takes a mouthful of the burning liquid and swallows in due time, considering whether to punish or praise Jake’s brattish apathy while he dawdles back to the couch. But it does make his dick jump.

Jake glances up at him as he moves, and Edward watches those lovely, sharp brown eyes dart from his face, to his lips, to the column of his throat that was exposed when he undid the top button. Shameless in his ogling, Jake even runs the tip of his pink tongue across his bottom lip, before letting out a huge sigh and flopping back onto the couch, phone slipping out of his hand and thumping harmlessly onto the plush carpet.

“I was _really_ lonely while you were gone,” Jake informs him, throwing his head to the side as though he was trying to purposefully pout with the least amount of effort. The complaint isn’t styled to be bitchy or sultry, but Edward smirks as Jake rubs a hand casually up and down his own torso, _coincidentally_ exposing his own flat, sharp stomach.

Edward cocks a hip and takes another sip of his drink.

At the lack of response, Jake’s head lolls back so that he’s looking at Edward’s face, eyebrows raised expectantly. Silently saying ‘ _hello, are you straight? I’m horny and I look this good.’_

Jake’s gaze slipped to the glass, and his frown goes from brat to bemused. “Is that literally just vodka?” Amused that the young man is distracted so easily, Edward gestures very vaguely behind him, to his abundant portable bar.

“You didn’t notice my fully stocked pantry?” he asks back, tone mocking

Jake shrugs, but his face becomes quite excited and he sits up a little. “I didn’t think you’d let me.”

The adorably behaved comment makes Edward quite a bit hard. _Oh_ , he’s deeply interested in the idea of telling Jake what he was permitted to swallow.

Jake’s eyes are bright on the bottles of alcohol as he swings one leg onto the floor to move. Edward doesn’t let him get any further; he straddles Jake’s knee and lingers over his glass, pulling in another long mouthful.

Edward doesn’t swallow it but swishes it around his mouth. Like a classy wine connoisseur, or a particularly disgusting child. He was making a show over considering whether to allow Jacob to drink, because he wanted the boy to eagerly wait for it.

But, it seems Jake’s more intent to help convince him. He nicely hugged him around the waist, tugging just a little so that Edward was leaned forward, his pelvis pressing into the area below Jake’s bellybutton but higher than his groin, and Jake began to nuzzle under Edward’s chin.

Edward smiled, still trying to keep his very full mouth closed, and Jake started nipping at his jaw. He was just about to swallow, to indulge the pretty man and let him make himself something, when Jake grunted with displeasure. The man nipped his chin once, quite firmly, subsequently tugging Edward’s lower lip down and letting a small drool of vodka and spit down Edward’s face.

Before Edward could do more than press his lips back together to keep from spilling again, Jake licked over the trail of slimy alcohol. He pulled away just a touch, and Edward now had to force himself _not_ to swallow. Because he’s just realised that Jake wasn’t cuddling up to get him to say yes; he had expected Edward’s assent, and wanted a drink in another fashion.

Trying not to smile, Edward cocks his fingers, beckoning Jake back up.

Eyes gleeful, Jake presses himself to Edward’s sternum, and opens his mouth wide.

Edward spits the mouthful slowly into Jacob’s nicely open mouth. A steady trickle of vodka and a fair amount of spit, and while some of it dribbled down the corner of Jacob’s lips, the boy ended up swallowing most of it with smugness and a clearing of his throat at the burn of straight clear spirits.

Edward chases a drop of vodka down Jacob’s cheek with his tongue, and Jacob yanks his own face back to suck Edward’s tongue into his mouth.

Jacob pulls away with a loud noise and smacked his lips. “Can’t say I didn’t like the taste,” he says with a wide cheeky smile like a wholesome boy next door. “I play pretty nice, huh?”

Edward smirks at the obvious fishing, before turning away to cough lightly into his hand from the burn of the alcohol.

“Yes, you do,” Edward replies, stroking a hand through Jacob’s hair. “I think I’ll keep you,” Edward decides, speaking quietly to himself.

But he’s only three inches from Jake’s face, who cocks his head to the side in silent confusion. But Edward can see the exact second Jake decides to not comment, or care, as he ducks his head into the crook of Edward’ neck and bites a little.

“Yeah,” Edward agrees, breathy as he gives up the pretence of standing and climbs on top of him, “don’t worry about it.”


	8. Chapter Lapan

Tonight’s going to be very interesting indeed. Here they were, with Alice assuring Jazz they were going to have so much fun with her brother and his plus-one, and here Bella stands, awkward and fidgeting, oblivious to the oncoming train wreck that’s about to unfold.

Jake is currently fooling around with Edward in the car. Right now, Edward’s sucking on the meat between his shoulder and his neck, and Jake’s trying to subtly check his phone.

Edward pulls off him. “Did I say you can look at your phone?” he asks, though his voice was bored.

Jake shrugs, “What? Just messing around, phone-checking just adds to the casual vibe in this limo,” he gestures to the long plush seat and laughs to himself.

Edward rolls his eyes as the car stops. “We’re here, let’s go,” he mutters, climbing out of the limousine. Jacob follows him, eyes still glued to his phone.

Edward greets his sister, ignores Jazz and Jake gives a weird yell. “Bella?” he exclaims, his voice high with abject terror. Edward freezes and starts to frown sharply – he hadn’t expected that type of response.

The girl in question runs towards Jake and throws herself on him, hugging him tightly. “Jacob! Oh my god! I was so worried when you stopped answering my calls!” she yells, and she somehow looks even paler than she did before. “Or texts, or emails, or messages. Are you mad at me? What did I do?” she demands, hopping from one foot to the other, like a child that needed to pee.

Jake hugs her tightly to him in return. “Babe, no! I kept trying to text _you_! I’m not mad, things just got so hectic,” he waves his hand and the rest of the group see him visibly show his new phone, courtesy of Edward. “I murdered my phone, too, so I’ll give you my new number and I promise I’ll start calling _you_.”

“You better!” She pinches his arm, and frowns. “Anyway, what’s hectic?” she asks, “You have enough time to … come here with my boyfriend?” She looks between Jake and Edward, exceedingly confused.

“Boyfriend?” Jake asks, eyes huge.

Edward scoffs, “Boyfriend?”

“Boyfriend?” Alice questions, looking very eager.

“Yes, she did indeed call Edward her boyfriend. Can we go inside?” Jazz asks, sounding very annoyed.

“Sorry,” Bella says, face flushing bright red as she looks at Edward, “are we not there yet?” she asks him, her tone breathy and hopeful.

Edward crosses his arms and shakes his head. “This is our fifth date, so no.”

Jake looks furiously at him for a moment, but Edward only raises an eyebrow calmly. Silently reminding the man that he simply didn’t have the cash on hand to get angry with him. Jake got the message, presumably, whipping his head to the side and taking a few deep breaths.

Bella steps back from him as he does so. “… Jacob is that a hickey?” she asks quietly. He shoves his collar up almost desperately, and shoots Edward a murderous glare. Edward only shrugs.

Bella looks between the two of them and understanding dawns on her face. “Um, you can’t get mad at me,” Jake says quickly. She looks wetly at Edward.

“Don’t give me that look.” Edward says, lips curled in distaste, “I definitely thought this would go another way.”

She starts breathing fast, and tears gather in her eyes. “I-I should go!” she squeaks, and she turns and begins to hurry down the street. Jake calls after her but watches her go like she’d given him a good kick to the ribs first.

Jazz throws up her hands. “You aren’t even gonna slap either of them?” she yells after the woman, frustration in her voice. “Fuck, I’ve been waiting _weeks_ for this to blow up!”

Edward turns on her, his expression thunderous and deadly. His voice is a hiss, “You knew?”

“You knew!” Alice cackles at her gleefully.

Jazz looks to Edward extremely unimpressed. “You knew,” she replies.

“Oh my god.” Jake stands there, his brown face now extremely pallid. He rounds on them all and glares. “This is the worst, you’re all terrible,” he growls and starts off in a run after the girl. “Bella, wait!”

Edward grabs the collar of his shirt swiftly and he doesn’t get more than a few steps in. “Did I say you could go?” he asks him, brow arched. He looks almost amused as Jake grits his teeth and has no choice but to shake his head. “Well, _that_ was not a good idea,” he mutters, though it seems he’s saying it mostly to himself.

Alice giggles again, looking gleeful. “No it wasn’t!” she agrees, giving her brother a chiding poke in his side, that he irritably swats away. “What were you even trying to do, you sil,” she says, less of a question and more of a general statement that went nowhere.

Edward shrugs, “Three-way, what do you think?” he quips, and Alice explodes into giggles (Edward’s like ‘too soon for boyfriend. But DP?’). Jazz seems to have settled into relative apathy, but Jake’s entire face was scrunched with rage.

“Okay well, whatever,” Alice says airily, taking Jazz’s hand and tugging, “let’s go inside!” Edward begins to head in after them, motioning for Jacob to follow him.

He doesn’t, he crosses his arms and shakes his head. “I don’t really wanna eat with you,” His tone harsh, but unfortunately ineffective.

Edward only looks amused. “Why are you under the impression I care?” he says, languishing against the door as the nervous hostess herds her other customers into a line outside. “You think this arrangement includes what you want?” Edward asks, and Jake can feel everyone’s gaze on him. “Fix your collar and come inside.”

Edward strides in now without looking back, and, flushed with fury and humiliation, Jake scurries in after him.

They sit in at a nice, private table, and it’s obvious that Jake’s livid. But because none of the other party members cared, it didn’t become awkward, and he still ate three servings of pasta, he just did so angrily, his cutlery clacking loudly against his teeth.

“Jewels, not tools,” Alice reminds him testily as his loud eating was getting pretty gross.

Jake stops completely, and turns a heavy eye on her. It makes Jazz clear her throat and flip her steak knife in her fingers, while Alice, though offended, backs off – reminded of the time Edward had wished _he_ had black eyes.

When they finish, they idle at the hostess stand. Not to pay, of course – the manager only wished to thank them for dining at his establishment. Alice asks the manager, who follows them out the door to see them off personally, for a cigarette. The manager fishes one out, and lights it for her too before he takes his gracious leave.

Alice looks at it between her fingers and cocks her head in Jazz’s direction, calling the woman to her. Jazz saunters, glad to crowd her. Alice takes Jazz’ arm in her pale little hand.

“If you ever feel the need to abstain from telling me anything again …” the cigarette hovers over her elbow, the ash falling over her track marks. Jazz doesn’t flinch, but waits patiently, watching the way Alice’s squints her eyes. “Well, maybe you’re not as worried about your position as I thought you were,” Alice murmurs, and carefully snubs out the cigarette into the old scars of her inner elbow.

If Edward smoked, he would have lit up right about now. The fuck on the car ride home was brutally satisfying. Edward considers the benefits of destroying another one of Jake’s friendships, that was such excellent sex; Edward may have even been bleeding a little. _Damn_ , the kid was so hot when he was furious.

But then Edward would have to find out who Jake’s other friends were, and it was sounding boring and would probably just be a pathetic little list of poor people. Emmett was on the case, at any rate.

Jake’s still angry; collecting his jeans and stubbornly ignoring the envelope Edward had Emmett specifically lay out for him. To be so ungracious in the face of such consideration on Emmett’s part, the big lug even wrote Jake’s name on the back and everything.

Edward shifts on the couch and stifled a delighted groan at the delicious dull ache from the fingerprints Jacob left on his hips. He wouldn’t give Jake the satisfaction of hearing them if he was going to act so petty. “You know I like bratty,” Edward acknowledged, “but don’t be a dip-shit. Take everything when you leave.” He nods to the envelope.

“I don’t want it, I just want this debt over and done with.” Jacob growled. His intense gaze and stony expression made the heat pool deep in Edward’s belly. “Is there anything else I can do to repay you besides fucking you?”

Edward liked the tone, but not the words. He scowled and rolled his neck to limber up. “No, there isn’t,” he replied simply, but while his voice seemed casual, his eyes glinted green acid. He rose from the couch, completely nude yet completely in control. “Do you have a death wish?” Edward asked lightly and waited for Jake’s slow head shake.

“I don’t even need the sex, fantastic as it is. So, you’re in quite the perilous position, Mr. Black,” Edward told him. Jacob watched him with quick, darting black eyes. “Maybe remember how you paid for your dad’s chair the next time you want to speak to me like that.”

Despite Jake’s larger size and physical dominance, he still shivered with genuine fear at the mention of his father. The way Edward smirked told him he knew it, too. “… Sorry,” Jake muttered.

Instead of responding in words, Edward turns and proffered his cheek expectantly. Jake took the hint, leaning over and kisses his jaw, wet and sloppily, moving up to his ear and nibbling and sucking on the lobe.

Edward’s eyes almost rolled into his head. He loved this situation, here poor Jakey was, forcing himself to play nice and cajole Edward into deigning to continue fucking him. If he thought any more on it, he might start popping wood.

He let Jake swallow his pride for a little longer before pulling him back. “Let’s get along now, Jake,” he cooed, “I’d love to continue spoiling you.”

Jake looked like he’d rather swallow broken glass. “Yeah, thanks ….”

Edward reached up and cradled Jake’s jaw in the palm of his hand. “Now fuck off, you’ve overstayed your welcome.” Jake nearly fled the apartment.

Mason Sr is furious. He had found out just what exactly Alice had been up to. He had found out about Jazz.

He calls his two children and his daughter’s new dog into his office, and they went, as though they were destined for the gallows.

Edward stands between Alice and Jazz and looks at the tall woman consideringly. He puts on a clinical air, but it’s impossible to miss the amusement in Edward’s eyes. “Do you think dad will kill him?” he asks, looking Jazz up and down. Jazz ignores him, eyes fixed straight ahead, chin up and shoulders back. The picture of a good little soldier.

Alice huffs and lets out a low, unhappy whine, “ _I don’t know_ ….” She’s nervous – their father is a wild card. It infuriates her that, for as long as she had known him, she could never get a grasp on what kind of actions he’d take. She _hate_ _s_ how unpredictable he is. He usually let her do as she pleased – but when he didn’t, she was always on edge.

“Maybe he’ll make you do it,” Edward continues, looking eager. He hadn’t ever seen his sister kill someone, after all.

“I. Don’t. Know.” Alice growls pointedly, giving her brother a sharp glare.

Jazz steps around Edward and presses her nose into the top of Alice’s head. “For what it’s worth; if he does make you kill me, then that’s how it is,” she murmurs softly. Alice preens at the attention, but the display makes Edward scoff.

“Now the woman’s not feral?” Edward asks with distaste, mostly to himself, no one else in the elevator is listening to him. Jazz looks nothing but fond at the idea of being offed by Alice’s own hand.

“I wouldn’t mind if it was you,” Jazz continues, eyes shining as she looks deeply into Alice’s large eyes. Alice smiles meltingly and strokes a manicured hand down her cheek. She feels much better knowing that even if the decision is outside Alice’s control, Jazz is ready to follow her to the end. It centres her.

“ _Lovely,_ ” Edward hisses, as the doors open to their father’s office floor. He storms out ahead of them, intent to be away from the mushy scene of blind devotion.

Edward reaches Esme’s desk, and she stands up to embrace him. “Hello children!” she calls, as she and Edward kissed the air by each other’s ears. “What brings you here?”

Alice sighs glumly, and Edward tilts his head towards the closed door.

“Is he busy?” Alice asks, her voice a reluctant whine. She groans when Esme shakes her head with a smile.

“Go right on in.” Esme smiles as Alice and Edward trudged inside, waving after them.

“ _WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU TWO –”_ the click of the soundproof doors leave an eerie silence.

Jazz stands, uncertain, as Esme turns to er with a bright smile and an outstretched hand. “I’m Esme Cullen, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Jazz shook her hand firmly. “You too, ma’am,” she inclined her head. Jazz already knew who Esme was – secretary, secret-keeper, the last line of defence. Jazz feels a little star-struck to meet her in the flesh, honestly.

They let go, and there’s an awkward pause. Jazz glances about for a topic; and her eyes land on a framed picture. “What a handsome man,” she says, tapping the plain frame of a slightly younger Esme in a white dress, being held by a grinning man outside of City hall.

Esme smiles, grabbing the picture and angles the frame away from the newcomer. “You can sit just over there, dear,” she tells her, nodding to a row of seats lined up against the opposite wall. With a nod, Jazz tromps over, and flicks through last month’s rag as her fate is bartered over next door.

“Huh … Mariah _is_ still skinny ….” Jazz muses to herself.

Anthony is red in the face with fury, spit flying from his mouth as he berates his children. “ _What_ were you thinking!?” he screams, and points straight at Edward’s face. “How could you let her do this!?”

Alice pouts, and wiggles in her seat. “Don’t be mad, daddy!” she wails, “We scared her off!”

Usually when she was younger, Alice’s whining got her kicked out of any meeting she had with her father, until his coke-addled brain could stand her high-pitched noises again. But judging his level of fury, it’s obviously not going to happen this time.

Edward’s slouched in his seat with his arms firmly crossed. “I can’t believe I’m getting yelled at for this. This is literally the most attacked I’ve ever felt!” he declares fiercely, glowering at them both. “And _yes_ , I’m including that one time I was kidnapped for a weekend when I was seven, don’t even ask!”

Anthony grits his teeth and nods to the door, outside of which, Jazz sits under Esme’s careful eye. “That is one of Maria’s dogs, who, I’ve been told, can’t help spilling her guts to the first good piece of ass she sees,” Anthony mutters, a hand covering his face as though he couldn’t bare to look at them. Or he had a migraine that even a good bump couldn’t fix.

Edward snorts, and immediately clears his throat to cover it up, but Alice nods adamantly. “Oh _sure!_ ” she agrees quickly, “Loose lips sink ships!”

It was obvious that Alice’s scheme of sending Rosalie undercover had not reached their father’s ears. Which is either impressive subterfuge on Alice’s part, or a very worrying blind-spot of their father’s.

But Anthony knows his daughter well enough to know when she’s hiding something. “… What did you do?” he asks quietly, dangerously.

Alice shakes her head, waving the words away. “It doesn’t matter who the leak was, or how the leak happened, or if I lied,” she assures him, but by Edward’s eye-roll, it’s clear to see that it mattered quite a bit.

“I got what I wanted, so you don’t need to worry, daddy.” Alice’s tone is gentle, and her eyes bright and satisfied. Edward looks vaguely disgusted, but he himself slowly unfurls in his chair. Blatantly lounging like an old-timey dandy who had already, or was about to, fuck Oscar Wilde.

Their father takes a moment to scrutinise them both. He’s evaluating them; though neither of his eerily-perceptive children can hazard a guess at what criteria he judges them against, or if they measure up. Anthony Mason did not keep his iron grip on this city by being easy to read.

“A ridiculous risk for an unworthy prize,” he tells his daughter eventually. Alice deflates like a balloon and kicks her short legs that didn’t reach the floor in these chairs.

Anthony pours himself a measure of scotch and fetches his ‘medicine’ from his desk drawer. “The both of you need to step out of Rodriguez business,” he continues, popping the pills in his mouth and washing them down. Edward doesn’t like the notion that his reign has limitations, and his father seems to sense it too. “This spic encroachment is measured, and we’re winning – for now. But the alternative ….”

Anthony Mason peers off, out the window. Today, they were open, letting natural light inside, something Anthony usually found distracting and distasteful. His uncharacteristic eerie calm disturbs his children more than anything. For a while, Edward thinks his father’s little white pills are taking longer than usual to kick in, doubtlessly because of his monster-high tolerance due to prolonged and extreme prior abuse. But this is different – their father seems lost in thought.

Tentatively, Alice waves her little hand. “Daddy?”

His black eyes slid over to her coolly. “… This is a large city, in a large country, in a large world,” he says, his voice foreboding and grave. Their father is usually either pompous or furious, so this subdued attitude makes them both sit up straight. “Mine is not the only business trying to stay afloat in this economy.”

“ _Ours_ ,” Alice mutters, but it was so under her breath only Edward hears her.

“What does that mean?” Edward asks their father, but he feels a tug in his gut as he does so – as though his instincts warn him against it.

His father snorts, the usual drug-fuelled fire spark in his eyes. “A bunch of fucking upstart Euro-trash are trying to muscle in on _my_ turf,” he growls, and slams his hands down on the table, making the siblings jump. “They don’t play _right_ , they _have_ no right, _don’t_ do anything that could give them an opening!”

Edward and Alice both nod very seriously and exchange worried glances when their father turns away for another drink to fortify his spirits.

Anthony Mason was a star-spangled American – he had a foaming hatred for immigrants and outsiders. The fact that there are Europeans he isn’t willing to beat into a bloody pulp means something. It means that he isn’t strong enough to do it. Be it money or man-power; they must have entirely out-paced the Masons. This isn’t something that has ever happened before. This is a threat that might hold some weight.

Anthony huffs out a sigh and crosses his arms. “I’ll be keeping an eye on you both,” he warns them sternly. He watches carefully as they both nodded, as though they were capable of being contrite. “Now, why don’t you devote your time to something more worthwhile?” he shoos them both toward the door with a ham-coloured hand. “Like that club you’re both so grateful I allow you to run?”

“ _Yes sir_ ,” Edward and Alice chorus and they escape quickly.


	9. Chapter Bilan

Edward has Jacob meet him in _Sixth Sense_ next. After their father’s threats, Alice wants to spend some time there and make sure things are running smoothly. Jake is wearing some very nice, tight jeans and one of the shirts Edward had gotten him. But he isn’t particularly in the mood for just ogling, and as soon as Jake sits down, he pushes a glass of dark liquor at him.

“You better get alco-horny,” Edward orders, a sly grin on his face. He knows it probably looks seedy, but he also knows he doesn’t care. “Now drink up.”

Jake doesn’t ask what’s in it, doesn’t instead request a drink he liked, or even look at Edward twice. He just nods and takes the glass and drains it. Edward likes watching his strong fingers grip the glass, but scowls when he spots the dirty fingernails.

“Compliant today,” he says, a little colder than intended, but he doesn’t want those filthy fingers in his ass, and he’s very used to making his displeasure known. He’s perturbed by Jake’s attitude a little bit, or lack thereof, but it isn’t as though he’s unused to being obeyed.

If Jake picks up on the tone, he certainly isn’t bothered by it. “Whatever.”

He heaves out a sigh, that struck Edward as very rude. The boy should be doing his best to remember how much money he cost.

“Today just sucked ….” Jake stops, no doubt realising that Edward probably didn’t care, and instead waves the glass under the older man’s nose. “Listen I have a lot of meat for this alcohol to filter through,” he points out and points down to his groin. Edward grins, liking the impudent behaviour _much_ more than the sigh.

He flicks his wrist to get the waitress’ attention. Since he _i_ _s_ Mason Jr., she abandons the table she had been greeting and trots up immediately. “A double.”

He beckons Jake over with his other hand. Edward should probably set up some rules for sitting arrangements – his lap would probably be first choice, even if Jake is quite a half-foot taller than him, or at least cuddle up a bit. Jake takes the hint, and moves until their knees knocked together, and slung an arm over the couch behind Edward’s head.

Alice has come, mostly because she wants to flaunt Jazz, but also because she loves dancing. And she’s having a great time – Jazz looks and behaves excellently, and she assures her that the woman is getting a very nice reward when they got home.

Jazz probably just assumed it’s sex stuff, and it is, but Alice is also going to officially start giving her actual duties. She’d be protecting Edward – mostly because Alice knows they didn’t like each other, and Jazz had to prove herself somehow.

Then Alice saw something that instantly sours her mood.

She stops moving and Jazz follows suit, her hands still on Alice’s hips and seems startled when, for just a moment, she’s the only thing holding the lady up. But Alice manages to regain her feet swiftly. She can feel the blood draining from her face and grabs Jazz’s hand in her shaky grip. “This place is dead,” she mutters, “Let’s go.”

They leave the club easily enough, and Alice knows they haven’t been detected by anyone. Emmett has the night off, so Alice had made Jazz drive her; meaning the cowboy was much soberer than she was.

She can only vaguely hope Jazz would head to her apartment – Alice can’t talk right now and she hasn’t given her any directions. Alice only knew they’re in the car. Alice also knows she’s on the edge of disassociating and tries to pull herself back. But she isn’t sure she has the energy.

“Please don’t cry.” It’s Jazz’s soft voice that draws her back properly and she nuzzles into the fingers she strokes down her face.

She’s embarrassed by the hot tears she can feel on her cheeks and pulls away from the woman with a sigh. “Don’t try and be nice to me right now,” she tells Jazz curtly. Bitter she has to see Alice weak – and why. “I know I haven’t given you any other choice.”

Jazz seems, for her part, concerned only for her, as she dabs Alice’s tears off her cheeks and onto the tip of her own tongue. “What does choice matter?” Jazz asks lightly, ducking back into her seat as she turns the key and the car rumbles to life.

Alice is offended by the question – almost hurt that Jazz didn’t instead assure her of her willingness to obey. “How can you say that?” she asks back, her tone harsh from her tears.

But Jazz isn’t looking at her – she’s scowling out straight ahead as she drives. “You can’t carve your name into my neck and then treat me like this,” she says with a voice that almost sounds demanding. “If you’re going to own me, then do it completely. Aren’t I utterly yours?” At this question, Jazz looks to her, and her baby blue eyes look almost lost.

Alice snaps at her to pull over, and she does so. They’d only gone two blocks west. They sit for a while and Alice tries to find the right words to say. It starts to rain, almost, the top of the car pattering like it’s being hit by the last drops of piss God’s shaking from his dick.

“ _Are_ you utterly mine?” Alice rounds her, her voice angry now. “Didn’t your little friend Peter want you to run away from me?” Rosalie had been there to inform her of every part of their conversation, after all.

Jazz almost huffs. “Well you’re the one half-assing this,” she counters, and Alice bristles at the very idea that she was to be scolded. But Jazz doesn’t seem to be gearing up to a fight, her posture slumping and voice sadder than before. “You haven’t given me any foundation.”

Alice’s fight leaves her too, and she leans against the window with a sigh that fogs the glass. “By your own logic I don’t have to give you anything ….” she mutters, but she knows she’s only being petty. Before seeing That Fucker, she’d planned on giving her a present, after all. “You’re Emmett’s mentee – shadow him and behave.”

Jazz starts to smile, obviously pleased to be finally given a task. But the smile doesn’t fully form, she glances back at Alice and her red-rimmed eyes. “Who was that? In the club?” Jazz asks her, her voice low as though she’s furious that someone’s mere presence upset her. It’s kind of sexy, Alice would have been turned on normally.

But the reminder of what had made Alice leave the club in the first place just makes her feel a flush caused not by lust, but shame.

“It was my ex,” Alice’s voice is firm, but she shudders delicately despite the warmth in the car. She feels a little sick, and jabs down her window, letting the spitting mist wash over her face. “James was cool and older, and my father will never know.” She breathes, focusing on the wet drops and not the churning in her stomach, ignoring Jazz’s gaze.

“How much older?” Jazz’s question is probably not intended to sound so insidious.

Alice scowls and shrugs. “I don’t know, just one of my dad’s thugs,” she answers. The silence that followed her words is heavy, as though Jazz knows she’s lying, or her guilt betrays her. “He was around twenty and I was fourteen.” She supplies the information quickly, and rushes on, not wanting to give Jazz time to respond, “I just didn’t have a good time.”

Forcing her mind not to dwell on the memories, Alice looks at Jazz. Her blonde head is slumped, and the shadows play over her face, keeping her expression obscured. “Don’t be sad for me, he hardly deserves it,” Alice says, but her guesses at her reaction are a shot in the dark.

“You’re mistaken; I’m not mourning some fuck,” Jazz’s voice is harsh and her teeth gleam in the dim car, “A snap of your fingers and he’s dead.” Distantly, Alice knew that – she could easily see him dead and gone. But her healing didn’t involve him, nothing about him.

Jazz rolls her neck, and her expression is bothered, uncomfortable but not strong enough to be upset. “I hate the very idea of a man that affects you so strongly,” her voice is soft, her eyes forward, on the car parked in front of them. “You shouldn’t care so much about anyone,” her voice cuts off oddly, as though she hadn’t meant to finish speaking. _Anyone but me_. The unspoken words hang in the air.

Alice enjoys it, though, it soothes her. She watches Jazz’ lanky form, folded over the wheel. She feels a little spark in her belly, as the woman’s fingers tease over the material on the wheel, idly stroking her hands over the wheel. She pulls the seat adjustment for leg room, all the way back.

“Distract me,” Alice tells her, reaching over. She tugs on the collar of Jazz’ shirt, before her hand wanders down to the woman’s fly. But Jazz takes her hand, holding it in a loose grip before she can unzip her. Alice’s eyes narrow, glaring at Jazz’ belly, refusing to meet her gaze. “Don’t you _dare_ reject me now,” she hisses intensely.

Jazz shifts over, towards her, but not sensually. “I never will,” she assures her, still not releasing her hand, “but-”

“I said don’t,” Alice snaps. She doesn’t want to hear any sort of questions or concerns from her belongings. She knows one more move in kindness, one more look of worry, would cause her to burst into tears.

“Don’t be sad,” Jazz says it simply, not as though she’s apprehensive about how fragile Alice is right now.

Alice shakes her head, Jazz’s even tone able to ground her. “I just wasn’t prepared for my first time,” she says softly, almost rueful, “it was silly.”

Jazz shakes her head. “I’m all yours,” Jazz is beginning to smirk a bit, as though she’s gloating over the information, “you don’t have to justify anything to me.” Jazz leans even closer to her, eyes slipping shut.

“You _are_ all mine ….” Alice says, giddy in the confirmation, and wraps her thin arms around her blonde head, giving her a kiss.

Just the right amount of drunk _does_ make Jake alco-horny. Edward actually ignores him the first hour and a half, checking on his interests on his phone, and doesn’t glance up until he feels a hand toying with the buttons on his suit.

“You dress like that one guy in the frat house who can actually read ….” Jacob tells him, his teeth catching on the shell of Edward’s ear. “One of the many reasons I like dicking you down,” he adds, chuckling to himself.

Edward doesn’t preen, per say, because he isn’t exactly being complimented. But he does smirk a little. Jake’s being downright _sweet_. “Well, looks like someone’s finally having fun ….” he replies, tilting his head as Jake moves to tongue his neck.

“Yep!” Jake pops the ‘p’ again, one hands gripping Edward’s thigh and the other moving up to cup the side of Edward’s neck he hadn’t gotten to yet. “Fuck trying to make amends, it’s your fault anyway,” Jake mouths over Edward’s clavicle, giving Edward a harsh nip that made his crotch twitch in response. Edward’s smirk slipped at the mention of some blame on himself, but he didn’t pull away.

“Amends?” Edward asks, mostly to himself, and he begins to smile as he realises. “Oh, you tried to speak with your dear little friend Bella ….” he chuckles and bites his bottom lip as Jake deliveres a few more harsh bites to his collarbone.

Jake stops his ministrations for a moment but doesn’t lift his head. “ _Best_ friend ….” he says, softly enough that if his lips hadn’t been teasing the skin behind Edward’s ear, he wouldn’t have heard it. It had been a bit of an oversight not to have it checked if they’d ever fucked, but Edward was something of a romantic, and had assumed he could make it happen relatively organically.

Edward knows he doesn’t want this aroused, playful drunk to turn sulky, so he reaches over and pets Jake’s jaw. “Oh,” he says in a cooing tone, “would it help if I said I was just trying to fuck you both?” He is mostly serious.

Jake shrugs, and Edward’s beginning to catch on that this cutie can’t hold a grudge to save his life – how dangerous.

“I guess ….” Jake mutters in return. The kisses come back full force, and Edward is very content to answer a few emails when having such a gorgeous man wrapped bodily around him. “When are we dancing?” Jake says, and with the complaint he jostles Edward’s phone to further make his point.

“Honey, I don’t dance,” Edward mutters, taking the webbing between Jake’s thumb and forefinger in a tight pinch, to imply not to mess with his phone again. By the way Jake simply shakes him off and uses that hand to cup Edward’s chin and lean down to bite his bottom lip, he knows he’d have to reiterate his point later.

“Well I _do,_ ” Jake shoots back when he’d finishes his bite and nods expectantly to the mass of moving bodies down on the ground floor.

Edward nods his ascent, and Jake stands up, taking his ponytail out and retying it securely.

“Better keep your eyes on me instead of that damn phone!” Jake snaps over his shoulder as he heads into the sweaty living wall.

Edward doesn’t want to give the impression that the boy is allowed to order him to do anything; but he thinks perhaps this once, there’s some merit to going along.

Edward doesn’t dance. He doesn’t particularly enjoy sweaty strangers near him, he was too important to be among the withering masses. And he’s very white. But Jake seems to be in his element. He isn’t just grinding to the beat, his whole body sways with the rhythm and Edward does very much appreciate the sight.

What he does _not_ appreciate are the men and women who try to sway with him. One such girl starts backing into Jake not half a minute after Edward allows him to leave his booth.

When the first woman starts to grind obscenely against his crotch, Jake’s eyes immediately seek out Edward. Edward is extremely pleased to see such natural obedience but doesn’t show it. He notes the way Jacob’s large hands hover over the woman’s hips. It’s obvious Jake wouldn’t mind playing a little.

Edward doesn’t really feel like allowing him to, so simply shakes his head slowly, and in response Jake smoothly untangles himself from the woman and steps away.

It happened a few other times, before people get the message and stop coming up to him. But it seems Jake isn’t happy with the lack of attention.

Jake has taken the tie out of his hair, and the activity puts a spark in his eyes. His gaze locks with Edward’s again, and he beckons him with a grin.

Edward sighs, and considers his options. He can stick to his guns and wave the boy off – he honestly doesn’t like being in such close contact with a large group of people (something he was sure ruined any potential chances of partaking in an orgy). Jacob would either keep dancing so nicely, or scurry back to him. Or he could humour him, and probably get an even more decent bout of sex than the boy gave him already.

Well, Edward is never accused of prudence. In fact, he got kicked out of his European boarding school for the exact opposite of ‘ _prudence and human decency_ ’. He rises and drops his outrageously expensive tie and jacket on his seat and smirks as Jacob immediately makes a grab for him while sticking out his tongue invitingly.

Edward is drunker than he’s supposed to allow of himself. He isn’t sure when in the night they had ended up in a club that was solely his father’s territory. It’s one of the filthier strip clubs in their name. The entire place is as dark as an episode of the _X-Files_ and the carding, or cover charge, is basically non-existent.

The music pulsed through Edward’s body more than he could hear it. He sits on the vinyl couch – the very best put on display for him. One dark-skinned twink with ass implants, his dreadlocks swinging with his hips. One perfectly perky neon-redhead, her waxed hourglass figure bouncing with every beat of the music.

And one Jake Black – even drunker than Edward, mostly grinding messily with whichever dancer swung around to him. He made an awful dancer this far gone, obviously half-mast and more engorged than graceful. But Edward liked watching him. What he lacked in finesse he made up for in enthusiasm. He had also given Jake a thick wad of fifties he was steadily plastering over the two strippers and they seemed more than happy to keep him happy.

The song ended soon enough, and Jake said goodbye to each dancer with a firm slap on the ass, stepping down from the platform and sitting to lean heavily against Edward. He’s glistening with sweat; his long hair stuck to his neck, and panting. “Maybe I can pay back my debt on a pole!” Jake yells over the music, an almost crazed laugh in his voice.

Edward hums, but shakes his head. “I don’t think so …” Edward muses, not elaborating that it’s because he doubted Jake would prove very profitable. Edward slides his hand between Jake’s thighs and squeezes his crotch. Jake grunts and cants his hips up obligingly, while he sculls a glass of whatever they’d ordered to the table. Edward glances around the club, wondering if they could fuck without anyone noticing. Well, anyone important. Looking around, he catches sight of something that immediately makes him freeze up.

His own father, with a few of the top-tier goons – savagely motor-boating some choice piece. Edward immediately yanks his hand away, feeling a little sick.

Edward really has lost control if he’s ended up in the same spot as his father. “Oh god, we need to leave,” he can faintly hear himself saying, before he lurches out of the seat.

Jake’s hands catch him around the waist, and somehow, they both manage to get out of the club. “Call an Uber,” Edward snaps, scrubbing a hand over his face, which he could barely feel.

He’s furious at himself for letting this happen. He couldn’t stand the thought of ending up looking as foolish as Mason Sr., as lecherous and addled. Jake is tapping away on his phone, but his worried glances at Edward irk him too.

“I don’t want to _be_ like my old man!” Edward explodes, his disgust and repulsion bubbling up and out of him in a verbal eruption. “I don’t need _this_ like he does,” he mutters, waving a hand to the pole, the substances, the power-shows. Jake watches silently, head cocked to one side, his eyes too dark and calm for Edward to figure out if the man even knows what he’s trying to say.

Edward isn’t sure if he was even showing weakness right now, or if he isn’t speaking sacrilege about the man who has always been the most powerful in the city; at least to him. “I’m going to make a better leader than he ever was,” he swears quietly, his cold, even tone masking his doubts, his fears.

He feels dizzy at he looks at Jake, as Jake reaches up and wipes his thumb across Edward’s chin. “Yeah, but you don’t have to spit about it,” Jake replies with a grin. He nods as a car horn beeped once. “That’s us.” Edward watches in some sort of stupor as Jake steps forward – looking, for a moment, like salvation as he climbs into the car and holds out a hand to help Edward in after.

It was their groggy, slow, drunken sex that leaves Edward feeling heavy and sensitive. Well, maybe he’s just hungover. He remembers the way he clutched, almost desperately to Jake’s back, mouthing at his shoulder and demanding the boy stay in him afterwards.

… Obviously the hangover.

He’s not sure what time it is, but he knows it’s barely morning. Edward’s not even sure what woke him up until he realises he’s cold.

Where’s Jake?

He hears tapping, and it’s familiar, but with his mind so slow he can’t place it. He just lies still for a moment and thinks. … Ah, his laptop keyboard.

… The keyboard.

Edward knows his bed, and he knows this whole room. It’s easy to slip out of bed without a sound. It’s easy to stand and see Jake sitting at his computer.

He’s never been so sure of a man’s stupidity than at that moment. He takes the gun from under his ottoman and walks up to the desk. Jake hears him, and looks up, eyes wide and startled.

Edward doesn’t care, he simply holds up the gun and uses the other hand to grab his laptop and spin it around.

It was information. Sarah Black, indigenous lawyer fighting to shut down proposed pipelines on sacred land, until her suspicious car accident thirteen years ago. As well as extremely sensitive information about Ferdinand Ramirez. Edward clicked his tongue; it took three lives of some not-very-good men to get that information.

“You’re about as dumb as you look, beautiful,” Edward mutters, and Jake just stares at him. He didn’t look particularly scared at a gun in his face. In fact, Jake looked furious, he looked enraged.

“Which one killed my mother? Ferdinand or your father?” Jake spits.

Edward doesn’t roll his eyes, but it’s a close thing. Instead, he jams the muzzle of the gun against Jake’s chin, making him gasp and jerk back.

“Open up that maw,” Edward orders and Jake doesn’t move except to clench his jaw. “Now baby, do you doubt me?” His voice was a coo and he gives the man a sharp slap across the face to make his point.

Jake slowly opens his mouth, and Edward slides the entire barrel past his lips. They’re frozen like that for a moment, before Edward cocked an eyebrow.

“You know what I want you to do.”

Jake closes his lips around the barrel and hollows out his cheeks. Edward watches this act of fellatio for a few moments, before he yanks the gun back, smiling as it clacks roughly against Jake’s pearly whites. He wanted it now too, and he climbs on top of the chair Jake sits on, and yanks down the front of his pants.

After Jake’s done swallowing, Edward turns the lights on and had him sit on the bed. The slap had turned quite red, surprising Edward, but certainly not concerning him. Jake looked good with Edward’s hand-print on his face. But the man doesn’t look him in the eye.

“What am I to do with you, Jake?” Edward says, and the only thing pleasant about him is the sickly-sweet smile on his face. “It’s almost as if you don’t want to leave this arrangement alive.” Jake looks up at him then, and he looks hard and steely. It’s getting Edward quite hard and steely in response, even though Jake had _just_ finished sucking him off.

“Who killed my mother?”

Edward is mildly impressed. Jake is well on his way to becoming the first lover Edward’s ever shot, but Jake certainly doesn’t seem to let that stop him – _bravo_.

Edward almost tells him the truth – that he has no clue. But that would have been less fun. “Why should I tell you?” Edward replied, hip and gun cocked. “Boy, what you must understand is that ultimately, you don’t matter.” That was the truth, Jake was nothing but an indebted human dildo, so much so that really all they were doing was recreating a colonial fantasy.

Jake begins to smirk, and Edward’s hand twitches with either the want to slap him again or stroke a hand down his face. “Really? Because when you told me you loved me last night, it certainly didn’t seem that way,” Jake almost purrs with satisfaction.

Unfortunately for Edward, after processing those words, the corresponding memories return. Scratching Jake’s back, mouthing his neck, watching his long hair slip from his shoulders, and promising that even if he was fucking him well into his fifties – Edward would never consider the debt paid. Almost whining over how he planned on keeping Jake forever.

Damn, that really was as good as a love confession. Edward tries to shrug it off, but honestly, he’s embarrassed. “… Well, maybe I should just shoot you and get it over with,” he suggests, but he knows he’s pouting.

Jake grabbed Edward by the hip and pulled him forward. “You tell me who killed my mother, and I might just love you back,” he offers in return, chin resting just below Edward’s navel as he looked up at him, still with that grin on his face.

Despite the fantastic blowjob just before, Edward thinks he could throat-punch Jake with his oncoming erection.

Edward gives up the pretence with the gun, taking the magazine and tossing it onto his desk, and dropping the gun down next to it. Jake doesn’t move, and Edward trails his fingers down the boy’s face. “Such a sweet thought …” Edward simpers, “what could you do, Jacob, even if you knew?” That was the question – even if Edward made an effort to find out what he wanted to know, he doubted Jake’d be dumb enough to try and get the police to help.

“I’d kill them.” There’s nothing soft and cheeky in Jake’s gaze as he speaks. “Whoever was responsible for taking my mother away from me.” Edward was an excellent judge of character – he had to be, with his family, in his line of work. He knew Jake was entirely serious. The look in Jake’s eyes were giving him shivers.

Murder. Well, not much hope of Jake getting away with that without some help. Edward couldn’t stop the grin from forming on his own face. Well – never let his father say Edward lacked _initiative._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: in which father's die in quick succession


End file.
